Damages
by adventuresinposting
Summary: Ben is in a car accident causing a fractured skull. Consequentially he remembers Dean. Ben tries to find Dean, who is now a retired hunter after losing Sam in a final battle. This is the story of Dean finding something and someone to replace the hole in his life left by Sam. Mostly Ben and Dean, Lisa later, mentions of Sam. Rated T for brief language.
1. Leather Jacket

**AN: **Like a lot of people here, this is my first story. Ever. I'm eager for reviews, so let me know your thoughts :) A few others have done a similar story, but I plan on taking this idea in a direction that I don't believe has been done yet. Or at least, I hope.

**AN2 (11.21.13):** I like to keep things as canon as possible, but I changed a few small details here to add suspense, drama, and color. Hey, it's fanfiction right? Technically, anything goes. Also I published this without a beta, because I don't know how that works. Plus it teaches me to proofread. Copy/pasting deleted some random words annoyingly, so this version includes all the words it's suppose to have.

I don't know why people put disclaimers. A friend of mine knows copyright law and says it makes zero difference if you put a disclaimer before using material and/or ideas. But I guess I'll still say that none of the characters are mind and they belong to our overlord Eric Kripke and the CW. etc.

This chapter is from Ben's POV. Set sometime in 2017.

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The first thing I become aware of is the pain. It isn't too bad, honestly, but I am more concerned about the fact that I had no idea _why_ my head felt like it had been cleaved in two. Slowly, feeling myself out of the fog my brain seemed to be in, I became aware of the rest of my body. My aching head, resting on a wonderfully comfortable pillow, my fingers, laid flat on something soft, my legs, heavy against what I now surmised to be a bed. As I became aware of my body, my other senses start waking up too. A rotten taste filled my mouth, like I had eaten a bunch of blue cheese and hadn't bothered to brush my teeth afterwards. An annoying, persistent beeping reaches my ears, making my head throb in painful rhythm with it. Hoping to find its source and make it _shut freaking up_ I slowly open my eyes.

Stark whiteness greets me, light peeking in through the closed blinds of a window at the other end of the room. A hospital. Well, that can't be anything good. Something happened to me, apparently. But what? I look around without moving my head. It was too heavy to bother. I glance down to find my right arm in a heavy white cast. Crap. My throwing arm. An IV line snakes around my left arm, ending in my hand. Both my arms are littered with scrapes and cuts, and I had a sneaking suspicion if I had a mirror I would find them on my face too. My head throbbed particularly painfully, and I close my eyes tight, willing the incessant beeping to stop. The darkness behind my eyes is soothing and comfortable, and I stay there.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I feel is the pain in my head again. But not like before. It's bad. It's like someone took a chisel and hammer and was using my head as a piece of marble, chipping away at it to sculpt a human head. I let out a low groan of pain. A small, warm hand finds my own. I open my eyes at the touch, this time finding a woman staring down at me.

"Hi sweetheart." the woman says, a wash of relief flooding her face as the corners of her mouth twitch up in a smile.

_Mom._

I want to say something, figure out what's going on. Let her know I'm ok. Maybe get some drugs in my system, which I'm guessing are wearing off by the increasing amount of pain I'm feeling. I guess I haven't been using my tongue much though, because it feels like a giant fruit roll up in my mouth. I lick my lips, trying to get them unstuck.

"How?", is all I can manage to croak out, the pain in my head stopping me from making a more coherent sentence. Just trying to talk makes me realize how tired I am. That one word took way too much effort. Whatever happened, it really must have hit me hard.

"Car accident baby." The woman- Mom- responds. She ever so gentle cups her soft hand around my cheek, her thumb making small comforting strokes on my face."You were driving back from the baseball field last night. There was a deer, and you swerved off the road to hit a tree. Hit your head pretty hard." Her big brown eyes, so much like my own, start to water a bit at those last words.

I give a tiny nod in acknowledgement. I close my eyes, trying to remember through the fog that still permeates my brain. A vague, fuzzy memory of Farming View Road creeps into my mind, the winding country road I always take home from the baseball fields where I spend a lot of my time with my friends. I love that road, beautiful all year round with the giant oak trees lining it. Never in the two years I had been driving that road had I seen a deer. So I was completely unprepared when I rounded a corner to see a deer staring straight at me, illuminated in my headlights. I remember feeling my heart stop as I panicked, adrenaline kicking in. I remember swerving to avoid it, acting on instinct more than choice. I remember the shape of a looming tree, one of the more majestic ones on that road, a brief moment of intense pain, and then nothing else.

Well now I knew what hit me. A freaking tree.

As the memory rushes back to me, as I realize that I must have hit that tree really damn hard, I start breathing too quickly. My heart monitor is going too fast, the beeping in tandem with the pounding in my head. The pounding in my head is making my stomach swirl and before I can try and stop it, I launch forward, Mom sensing what was about to happen and ready with a basin. I vomit whatever is in my system. All of it is too much. Mom helps me lean back, uttering soothing words of comfort, my head resting against the pillow again.

"Hurts Mom." I say quietly. I'm spent.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just sleep, ok? The nurse is here and she'll make everything feel better ok? I'm right here," her voice cracking with emotion.

I see a woman dressed in all white appear at my side just as the pain in my head reaches a crescendo. Out of the corner of my eye I see her fiddling with my IV. A few moments later there's a swirling sensation, and then blissful nothing.

I wake with a start. I had been dreaming. Some tall guy with a leather jacket had been in them. He had been talking to me while we sat on a bench in a park. There wasn't much more to it than that. I hugged him at some point. I think. It was all very fuzzy. But it was familiar too, as if it was more memory than dream. But I had no idea who this guy was. Weird. I dismiss it, attributing it to the mess of drugs I'm probably on.

I find Mom sleeping in a reclining chair next to my bed. Her dark hair frames her tanned face, her hands slack in her lap. Judging by the light coming through the window, it's late afternoon. I must have been here for at least a day, because I drove home late last night. Or was it the night before? Who knows. My head is heavy and fuzzy with drugs, pain, and the bandage I now sense to be wrapped around my head. I think about the last time I was in a hospital with my Mom. The roles had been reversed then, though. I was 10. Mom had been the one in a car accident. Some dumbass drunk driver. At least he had come in to apologize though, make sure she was ok.

And then it hits me. The man from my dream was the same man who had come to see us. Tall with blondish hair. Leather jacket. I didn't get it though. Why would I dream about him? It was a dream, right? Maybe my head was more banged up than I thought.

As if to verify that thought, my head pounds again and I squeeze my eyes shut against it. I hear a door open, and I open my eyes to see a man with kind eyes and a mop of white hair reading off the monitors next to my bed.

"Ah! You're awake. Good!" He says jovially. "I'm Dr. Vakamundi, or just Dr. V if you like. I'm glad to see you awake after two days of sleeping. Awfully lazy of you Benjamen." He gave me a small smile. His voice was light, his soft accent pleasant in my ears. "How's the pain?", Dr. V asks.

"Sucks." I respond, squeezing my eyes shut as I take full inventory of my weary banged up body. My tongue seems to have regained its normal shape and size at least, thank God. "And it's just Ben. Please." I add as an afterthought.

"Alright Ben. I'm not surprised. You banged your head pretty bad. Baseball bat in the backseat of your car decided it wanted to sit in the front, but found your head instead. Gave you a pretty nasty crack. Literally. You have a skull fracture, requiring 12 stitches. You also have some bruised ribs, and a broken right arm. And a wonderful collection of cuts and scrapes, as I'm sure you've noticed. But it's the head I'm most concerned about. We'll have to keep you for a few days to monitor."

I nod my head slightly as Dr. V starts checking me out; making me wiggle my toes, recite the months of year, recall where I was about to graduate from high school, shining a light in my eyes. The process of it all was exhausting and annoying, the pounding in my head picking up in intensity the longer Dr. V makes me do things. Surprisingly, Mom doesn't wake. She must have been here for a while already to sleep through all of Dr. V's ministrations. After a last round of questions, Dr. V gives a satisfied nod of his head as he makes the last notes on his notepad.

"You're doing quite well, all considering. Rest is all I can prescribe for now. Well, that and a little medicated help.", he says with a chuckle. I see him tap a syringe in his hand, plunging it into my IV line. He gives me a small wink when he notices I'm looking at him, his kind eyes reassuring. His smile is the last thing I register before the warm and comfortable darkness takes me under again.

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I go home a few days later, a big white bandage comically wrapped around my head and a matching cast on my arm. At home, Mom confines me to my bed on instructions from Dr. V: bed rest for the next two weeks. No sports, No strain, No shenanigans. Plenty of rest.

Plenty of boring if you ask me. I pass the time watching baseball on TV, and lamenting over my now totalled car. I couldn't ever stare at a screen for longer than 10 minutes or so; the bright light would make my head ache. A few friends stopped by after school most days, leaving me homework to catch up on. They only ever stay long enough for Mom to shoo them away, saying I needed quiet time. Thank God I had already finished my final exams, because there was no way I would be able to study with the letters on the pages jumping around all the time. Side effect of a skull fracture: completely disoriented and slightly dizzy almost all the time. There were still a few days until graduation, and really I just needed to bid my time until then. So, I slept a lot.

And I dreamed a lot. Nearly every night my dreams were filled with the image of the man in the leather jacket. I could no longer attribute it to hospital level pain meds, having been put on lower dose stuff since coming home. Sometimes he would be doing something, like teaching me about cars. Other times he would just be looking at me, his green eyes crinkling in a smile when I told my mother a particularly corny joke about, well, corn. It all felt so...right. So comfortable. It was like my brain was trying to tell me something, something that I needed to remember. But the more I tried to think about it, the more I tried to remember who this man was, the more confused I became.

About a week after I'de come home from the hospital, I took a fairly hefty dose of prescription pain meds. I had forced myself to read through the pain that day, bored out of my mind with nothing else to do. Now I was out of my mind with a headache. But with pain meds to look forward to I was planning to sleep well that night. Those drugs were _sweet_.

As was usual, the man in leather jacket was in my dream again. But it was far more vivid than any of the other dreams I'd had. And it was terrifying.

_My Mom and I were in some kind of warehouse, cold and confused. We were tied up, and utterly helpless against the two men standing guard over us. I was younger, not as strong as I am now. I was praying the leather jacketed man would come. Somehow I knew he would, that he would save my Mom and I. Not only because he cared about me, but also, I realized, because he loved my mother. With a sudden bang, the door to the warehouse room swung open, the man barging through it with his leather jacket swinging out behind him like a cape as he swung his fists at the men holding us captive. My own superhero. He beat them down, brandishing a knife. The room seemingly clear of danger, he cut the ropes binding us. But my mother grabs me from behind, somehow managing to grab the knife out of the man's hand. She held it to my throat. This wasn't my mother through - it couldn't be. My mother - or whatever was making my mother act like this- spoke. It was her voice, but there was an edge of savagery that my mother would never - could never- have. That scared me the most. She said the man was my real daddy. Said my mother was a slut. Said I was the biggest mistake in my mother's life. The man spoke to me, shouted my name, reassured me that everything was going to be ok. Told me that it wasn't my mom, to not listen to her. Told me that she was possessed. Possessed? What the hell does that mean? Before I could even process that information, the man threw water at us. My mother screamed as if she were on fire, the water burning her - no, burning the thing possessing her. The man tackled my mother, telling a "black eyed bitch" to get out of there. I stood frozen, panicked and shocked while I watched them struggle. The man started saying words in another language, making the thing inside my mother twitch and scream. The knife she still held is knocked out of her hand, and the man yells at me to pick it up. The thing grabs a sharp tool from the table she is pinned against. I watch in horror as she plunges the tool deep into her own abdomen, a devilish smirk on her face. "Finish the incantation now, Dean. Your precious woman is just a dead meat suit now". The man in the leather jacket screams, a sound of fear and panic and anger. It sends shivers down my spine. He says a few more words in that strange language and my mother falls to the ground as black smoke pours out of her mouth in a scream. My mother is bleeding on the floor. I freeze. The man slaps me, bringing me back to my senses and sternly instructing me to grab the shotgun he had brought. A shotgun? What the hell am I suppose to do with a shotgun? The man- Dean- instructs me in hurried words how to use it. A man with black eyes runs towards us, and Dean tells me to shoot. I do. It's the first time I've shot a gun, let alone shot a person. No, I tell myself, I shot the thing possessing the man. The demon. We're running. Running while the man carries my mother outside, blood coating his hands. There is fear in his green eyes. Panic. We briefly stop to unlock a door, freeing a tall man with long hair. He runs ahead, and comes back with a car. We clamor in, Dean still muttering words of comfort and reassurance to me. The door to the car slams shut._

I woke with a start, the slamming of the car door in my dream acting like a sudden electrical shock to my system. Sitting up quickly and breathing heavily one thought runs through my mind: _Dean. Dean Winchester_. That was the man's name. It was as clear to me as day. How could I forget about Dean? Green eyed, dirty blond haired, and leather jacketed Dean. Dean, the man who lived with my mother and me for a year, a long time ago. The man who could always- always- make my mother smile. The man who always found time to throw the baseball around with me. The man who saved us from demons, and ghosts, and God knows what else because _monsters were fucking real._ That final realization along with finally discovering the identity of my dream stalking, leather jacket wearing man had me sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

I swung my legs out of bed, the sheets sticking to my sweaty skin. I ran a shaky hand through my hair, finding the stitches at the base of my skull where the doctors had fixed my cracked head. That must have done it. The baseball bat to the head I took must have done something to stir my memory, to make me remember someone that I had no idea how I had forgotten. But how could I forget a whole person? Especially Dean? I leaned forward to let my head rest in my hands, my elbows propped up on my knees, the rough texture of my casted right hand rubbing against my cheek. I was sure this wasn't just a dream. The fear I felt was too real. The dreams- what I now knew to be memories- were too vivid.

"Dean." I whispered to the dark. "How could I forget you?"

I needed to find him. The need was sudden, but deep. I needed Dean. Needed him to know that I remembered him. Needed him to know how much he had meant to me in that year. More than anything, I needed to know why he wasn't here now.

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I didn't sleep the rest of that night, replaying the warehouse scene in my mind over and over again. The demon's words kept repeating in my mind. "He's your real daddy you know". Could that be true? I had never known my father. Dean had always been the closest thing I had had to a father, even if it had been only for that one year. So why couldn't he be? And why wouldn't my mother tell me that? And most of all, where was Dean now? The never ending questions frustrated me.

When the sun peeked through my window, I went downstairs to make coffee. The beauty of the internet is that it's always on. So even at 5 in the morning, sun barely risen, I could pop open my laptop, the sudden bright light making my head ache annoyingly. Damn head. My casted right arm was difficult to type with, but I managed to enter Dean Winchester into the search bar.

Nothing.

I search everywhere, my coffee gone cold, forgotten in my search. But Dean had managed to disappear from the world just as well and as suddenly as he had disappeared from my life. I debated asking Mom about him. Somehow I knew that what had made me forget Dean had made her forget him too. And I didn't need to cause my mother pain by trying to force her to remember a long lost love. Because just as sure that I now knew Dean's name, I knew my mother had loved him. No, my mother as a source of information was out.

Frustrated, I pulled out my phone and texted my friend Jack. He was the kid people went to when they needed a fake. He knew his technology, and people knew him for it.

_Hey man I have a favor to ask. I'm looking for an old friend, and Google's not helping. Can you see if you can find anyone by the name of Dean Winchester for me?_

I sent the text, tapping my foot impatiently on the floor. It was still early, and a Saturday at that. No way he would answer for at least a few hours.

I huff out a weary sigh, letting my head fall back against the back of the coach. I close my eyes, weary from staring at a computer screen, my head aching from the bright light.

My need to find Dean was like a fire burning in my chest. But how do you find a man that has disappeared? Was Dean even still alive?


	2. Classic Cars

**_AN_**_: I've switched over to third person for the rest of this story. First person was effective for the first chapter with just Ben, but starting with this chapter there will be several characters coming and going. Third person will be easier for me to write and for you to read._

**_AN 2_**_: (1/6/2014) This is the second version of this chapter. The original was large blocks of exposition text, and was very difficult to read and enjoy. In short, I hated it. So, I've rewritten it to be more engaging and slightly faster paced. No significant information or events have changed from the original._

* * *

Dean Winchester was where he was most days: under the hood of a car. He huffed out a sigh, wiping a dirty hand across his sweating brow. It left a dirty streak on his forehead. Somehow, though, it suited him. The sun was torturous in the summer months in South Dakota, relentlessly beating down. But after a few years of living here, Dean was finally getting used to it. He was also finally getting used to being in one place for longer than a few days. It had only taken three years.

Unbelievably, Dean Winchester had finally settled down. But it wasn't the kind of settling down most people did, with a partner, a few kids, maybe a dog. No, Dean Winchester had settled down in the most direct interpretation of the phrase: he had settled on being down.

Dean stared at the engine block below him, eyes squinting as he considered his next move. The rubber hoses connecting various parts of the engine had deteriorated from age and neglect, but were still stubbornly attached to their ports. Dean had for the last hour been attempting to disconnect them all before replacing them with new, modern versions. The last one was proving to be stubborn, but Dean was determined to fix it.

Dean had had the same attitude when he had learned that Bobby had left Singer Salvage to him. Bobby had left the property to Dean and Sam in his will, a vague hope in his heart that at least one of them would someday need somewhere to live permanently. Maybe take his place as "the go to guy" in the hunting community. But of course, Bobby had never known about the Men of Letters bunker. And he could never have known what would happen to Sam. Or what it would do to Dean.

The property had lain desolate and seemingly abandoned on the outskirts of Sioux Falls for nearly a decade, until three years ago when Dean had returned to claim his inheritance, battered, bruised, and a shell of his former self. Stacks of old, rusting cars littered the yard in a maze like fashion. The remnants of Bobby's house were still there, a bleak reminder of the past. The Leviathans had burnt it down years ago, leaving a crumbling, ashy black mess behind. The fire had claimed Bobby's house, but the indestructible panic room remained, true to its purpose. The first thing Dean had done upon arriving was to pay some local boys a good bit of money to dismantle it for him, no questions asked. He couldn't stand to live on the property if he knew the panic room still existed; it served too well as a reminder of the people he had lost and the things he had done wrong. But now nearly 40, Dean couldn't dismantle it by himself no matter how much he wanted to.

Age, lifestyle, and career choice had finally caught up to the once nimble, strong, and confident hunter.

Dean had paid the same boys to build a small house near the edge of the property, this time helping a bit. He had fixed up the grounds, taking stock of the hundreds of cars, given the Singer Salvage signs a fresh coat of paint, and repaired the mangled fence surrounding the property. He had even planted some trees in the charred ground of Bobby's house in a vague hope for shade in the future. Singer Salvage looked the same as when Bobby was alive. Except, of course, that everything was different.

Dean let out a frustrated noise, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. The car whose hood he was currently under really was being a pain in the ass. It was a classic '65 Ford Mustang. Blue. Or at least it had once been blue. The paint was faded with age, chipping off in flakes. The bumpers were loose, the headlights broken. But the frame was good, the engine sound, albeit not currently running. She had potential, and Dean was determined to make her into the beauty of a car she once was.

Dean crouched down, his back and knees protesting, and found a wrench in the red rusting toolbox sitting next to him. Straightening up again, Dean surveyed the yard, thinking back to when Sam had been there to hand him the tools. That felt like a lifetime ago.

It had been a lifetime for Sam.

But this was Dean's life now. Alone, with his cars, his beer, and the occasional call from Kevin, Charlie, or even once in a blue moon Garth. Hell if he knew where Cas was. Dean had long since given up praying to his angel friend.

Dean thought back to the series of choices he had made that led him to this point. He'd had good intentions of course, always had had Sam in mind. But nothing ever went well. And it seemed Sam always became the victim, in one way or another. This was especially true in the last few years when Dean had desperately clung to his brother.

Dean had been selfish. After the demon trials, Sam had been mortally wounded, beyond healing and help even from angels. Sam had accepted his fate, ready and more than willing to die if it meant saving humanity from evil. But Dean could not live without his little brother. So, he had tricked Sam into accepting the angel Ezekiel as his celestial pacemaker. Sam became the unwilling vessel for Ezekiel, one being healing the other. It was a seemingly mutually beneficial arrangement. That is until Ezekiel had revealed his true intentions.

Blinded by desperation to save his dying brother, Dean hadn't made the connection that an angel strong enough to heal his comatose brother could also be an angel strong enough to take over his body. Dean had always assumed responsibility for Sam, having had it drilled into him by his father. Dean, still clung to that responsibility, even in the wake of Sam's death.

After months of possession, Sam and Ezekiel had become one entity on a visceral level. During that time, Ezekiel had been slowly building an angel army, ready to orchestrate his grand plan in allowing angels to rule all of God's creations, as he believed God intended. He had worked stealthily, surreptitiously taking control of Sam behind Dean's back. Sam was none the wiser, his memory wiped after every episode.

Ready to break free from the bunker and execute his plans, Ezekiel took control of Sam's body permanently. His first move was to find and kill the ex-king of Hell: Crowley was still locked in the bunker's dungeon, and had been an easy target for the angel. He'd even found the Colt hidden on the demon, hidden in plain sight from the Winchesters for years.

Kevin had been spared. The angel, though rebellious, was reluctant to kill a prophet of the Lord. But that hadn't stopped Ezekiel from knocking Kevin out. The well-timed arrival of Castiel and Dean, who had been on a hunt together, was what finally stopped Ezekiel's escape. Cas' angelic powers combined with Dean's brotherly connection to Sam gave the possessed Winchester the strength to regain control of his body. Permanently one being, Sam had shot himself in the head with the Colt, killing both Ezekiel and himself.

So in the end, Sam had been the savior he had always wanted to be.

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As the sun began to set, Dean decided to call it a day. He walked the few paces from where he had been working on the Mustang in the hot sun to the shade of the ramshackle garage where his first love was: the Impala. He had parked it here when he first returned to Singer Salvage, and hadn't moved it since. It had been his and Sam's home for nearly all their childhood, and much of their adult life. Now it sat parked, homage to a life left behind. Dean admired the big, black beautiful car, a sad smile creeping on his face as he ran his hand along the side, his fingers collecting dust. "Need a good polish don't you baby?" Dean muttered. _Talking to a car again Dean?_ he thought to himself. _Maybe you should talk to people for a change, _the thought triggering a long, sad sigh from some deep, lonely place within him.

Dean walked towards the back of the garage, where he kept a small fridge full of beer and a few snacks. He opened the fridge door, enjoying the brief rush of cool air as he grabbed a bottle of beer. Dean popped the top, the familiar sound a strange comfort.

Dean took a long pull of the cool drink, refreshing in his dry mouth. He let out a random chuckle, suddenly reminded of when he had taken Kevin out on his 21st birthday. Lucky for Kevin, he didn't fit the typical Asian stereotype when it came to alcohol and was able to hold his own quite well. Unluckily, he had foolishly tried to match Dean one for one. Dean remembered Kevin singing Madonna's "Like a prayer" while dancing on a table. Kevin, however, did not remember.

It seemed to be a beautiful sunset in the making, and Dean decided on a stroll around the junkyard to check on things across the large property. His thoughts wandered, and he found himself recalling the first few months after Sam's death. They were memories he didn't like to dwell on, but they nonetheless always found him. Probably because he felt responsible, and therefore guilty.

He hadn't gotten very good at burying those memories. Or those emotions.

Dean had hung around the bunker for a few months after Sam's death, depressed, angry, and more often than not, drunk. Kevin, who now called the bunker home permanently, knew better than to confront him, and had left him alone.

One day, a few months after Sam's death, Dean had been wandering around the bunker in a drunken stupor. All he wanted was to get lost in the maze of halls and rooms of the bunker. He wanted to disappear, lost to the bunker's seemingly infinite depths. Instead, he had found himself in front of the closed door of what had once been Sam's room. Dean took a few swigs from the nearly empty bottle of whiskey he was holding in his hand, swaying a bit on the spot, staring at the door handle. "Fuck it", he muttered and opened the door.

He stepped into what had been his brother's room. The room was mostly empty with just a bed (still made), nightstand, desk, and a chair as means of furniture. Sam's tendency to keep things neat was well reflected here, even in death. Angry at himself, angry at the life he had been forced to live by his father, and angry at everything, he had hurled his mostly empty whiskey bottle with a violent scream of anger and frustration. It crashed against the opposite wall, glass shattering. He didn't stop there: Dean threw whatever he could get his hands on. He quickly exhausted his supply of throw able items and turned fiercely towards the desk. He pulled out drawer after drawer in a furious rage, the violent throw of each drawer accompanied by a primal growl of anger and frustration and depression. But as quickly as the tirade had started, it was over. Dean's anger abated, leaving only exhaustion and a deep pit of nothingness inside him. He collapsed on the floor in a heap, sobbing.

After several minutes, Dean had been able to compose himself. He realized he was sitting on a pile papers, strewn about in Dean's drawer throwing fit. A simple envelope sitting near his feet caught his eye: _Dean_ it read.

Dean opened the envelope with shaking hands, figuring nothing could make him feel worse than he already did. He found a letter, written by Sam and dated a few days before Ezekiel had taken over.

_Dean,_

_If you're reading this, I'm dead. And if I'm dead, and if I know you, you're going to be holding yourself responsible. Stop. I choose my death, not you. Let me explain. Please. I only have a few minutes before he comes back._

_You never told me an angel possessing me was what saved me after the demon trials. I think you were scared of what would happen if I knew. But I figured it out anyway. He started getting lazy with wiping my memory towards the end- I think he assumed we wouldn't be able to do anything about it at that point and just let me watch as he planned millions of murders. As he planned your murder._

_He kept pushing me lower and lower inside myself. It's hard to explain. But in that deep dark place, I started to realize that we were connected somehow._

_I've got a plan though Dean. We- I- can't let Ezekiel take over humanity. You know just as well as I do: all the angles are dicks and it's not up to them who rules Earth. I'm going to wait for him to take over all the way, push me as far down as he can without killing me. Somehow I know that's when he'll be most vulnerable. The only way we can kill him and stop him, then, is by killing me. I know you won't do it. So I will. _

_Don't worry Dean. This is what I want. I think, in the end, this I what I've always wanted. For everything we've ever done, everything and everyone we've sacrificed, to mean something._

_But what I also want, Dean, is for you to keep going. You can't let yourself feel guilty, because there is no way you could have known how things would have gone. You did what you always do: protect me._

_I want you, Dean, to be happy. You'll never admit it to yourself, but I know you want that apple pie life. Go find Lisa and Ben again. She loved you, no matter how much you deny it. Even if you think it's pointless after everything that happened there, you need to go back and try. Turn on that old Dean Winchester charm. She truly loved you, and she'll remember that. But only if you go back to her. _

_I can't remember if I ever told you this before, and now I think this will be my last chance._

_Thank you Dean. Thank you for always protecting me. Thank you for being my big brother. Even when this is all over, you'll always be my brother._

_I love you._

_Sam_

Dean had been drunk for three days straight after that.

Now, in South Dakota, Dean completed his round of the junkyard just as he finished his beer. He walked back to the fridge, this time grabbing a bottle of water. He drank a lot of water these days, a silly attempt at an "I'm sorry" to his liver. Dean smiled to himself, thinking that Charlie would get a real kick out of Dean talking to his internal organs like that. _Damn, he really was on a nostalgia trip today wasn't he? _Dean thought to himself.

Charlie had come back from Oz a few days after Dean found the letter, mysteriously showing up in the bunker with Dorothy in tow. Dean had been happy, more or less, to see her. She was the little sister he had never knew he wanted. But now he really didn't want her; he wanted to be left alone with only his whiskey bottle for company. Charlie wasn't having it though. She was hurting too. The news of his passing (and especially the manner of his passing) had shocked her. But together, Charlie and Dean had talked late into the night, slowly replacing whiskey with water. She helped him to realize the one thing Sam had always wanted for Dean: a life away from hunting. And according to Sam's letter, that meant going back to Lisa and Ben. They were his family now, despite the simple fact that they didn't remember him. Sam had seemed pretty convinced that all they needed was a simple reminder for Lisa and Ben to take him back. Who really knew though? Dean had only stared at the floor when Charlie had said that, his thoughts far away and his green eyes blank. But the next day, Dean had packed his few belongings and said his good byes.

Before leaving, Dean had asked a favor of Charlie: to erase any signs of his existence from the Internet. If he was going to leave the hunting life, he needed to make sure the hunting life couldn't find him. Charlie had given him a small, sad smile at that request, and had of course obliged.

After Sam's letter and his talks with Charlie, Dean needed to leave everything behind. So he left the bunker, left the hunting life, left his friends, and headed for Sioux Falls to the only thing he had left to his name besides the Impala.

Dean blinked, bringing himself out of his reverie. The sun was approaching the horizon, casting an orange glow over the property. If he hadn't been so lonely, he would have said he was happy. And despite Sam instructing him to find happiness with Lisa and Ben, Dean had stayed away. He knew he would only bring them pain.

In the fading light of the day, Dean tidied his tools and locked up the garage. He turned towards the entrance of the Singer Salvage. There was a cloud of dust, indicating the arrival of a car. Who the hell would drive way the hell out here at this hour?

Dean walked towards the approaching car, wiping his hands on a rag hanging out of a back pocket of his tattered jeans. The car came to a stop in front of the grove of young trees Dean had planted.

As Dean approached, a young man stepped out of the driver's side, the cloud of dust his car had kicked up silhouetting him in the setting sun. He had deep brown eyes, and short brown hair. He was dressed simply in jeans, sneakers, a v-neck t-shirt, and a well worn baseball cap with _Chicago Cubs_ scrawled across in a swirling script. A stark white cast covered his right arm.

He looked vaguely familiar to Dean.

"What do you want?" Dean asked him, not unkindly. No one showed up at Singer Salvage unless he knew about it.

The young man just stared at him, unblinking, a couple of feet between the two men. He seemed to be struggling to find words. It was giving Dean the creeps.

"Hey, kid", Dean said gruffly, "Stop staring at me. You're giving me the heebie jeebies. What do you want?"

Ben took a deep breath and blinked a few times, regaining his composure. Ben knew that this was where he would find Dean, but the sight of him still had shocked him. Dean looked exactly the same, and yet completely different. He seemed smaller somehow than what Ben remembered. Then again, Ben had been much smaller the last time he had seen him. But he didn't look smaller just in size; his whole being seemed smaller than the larger than life personality Ben had loved so much during that year.

But that had been years ago.

Ben took a few steps forward, fidgeting with his cast in nervousness. "Hi. I, um, I'm looking for Dean Winchester." Ben said.

"Who's asking?" Dean replied, his brow furrowed in question. Anyone Dean didn't personally know shouldn't know his name. He briefly considered the thought that this might be some kind of monster, but Dean knew the warding symbols he had placed at the edges of property were strong against most kinds of unfriendly company.

"Me." Ben paused before continuing, the weight of his next words heavy in his heart and mind. "My name is Ben. Ben Braeden."

Dean froze. Now he was the one staring. Ben. It couldn't be. But he could see it in his eyes.

They were Lisa's eyes.

"Ben?" Dean gasped out.

Ben nodded, a smile creeping up in the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah Dean. It's me."

Dean crossed the space between them a few swift steps and grabbed the boy tight in a hug.

They stood there, one man not letting go of the other, for a long time.


	3. Beer

_**A/N:** After this week's episode (9x9: Holy Terror) this fic is officially AU. I'm going to try and upload a new chapter every Friday. Originally this was going to be four chapters, but at this point it may be longer. We'll see._

_As always, please read and review :)_

* * *

Ben and Dean broke apart from their embrace, the older man leaving a scarred hand on the side of the younger man's neck in an act of affection. Dean couldn't believe it truly was Ben standing in front of him, and needed the contact to confirm that this was in fact real. It was nearly impossible to find Dean these days, thanks to Charlie's tech skills. And yet, Ben was here. And Ben knew who he was. That was impossible all on its own. A silence falls between the two men, heavy with questions and uncertainty. Neither of them knows how to proceed, taken off guard by a situation neither of them ever thought could happen. Finally, Dean breaks the growing tension.

"C'mon. Let's go inside." Dean says gruffly, motioning with his head towards the house.

Following him through the front door, Ben looks around with wide eyes, curious of the life Dean lives here. Dean's house is small and simple, but it's all the retired hunter really needs. It's an open design with the kitchen and living area in the same room, separated only by a dilapidated old brown couch that hinted the two areas were meant to be separate rooms. Off the living area Ben can see a door that he assumes leads to Dean's bedroom at the back of the house. Besides the coach, the furniture is sparse. The kitchen has a small table with a solitary chair, old newspapers littering the pale blue formica surface. A battered looking wooden coffee table fills the space between the coach and TV, a couple of empty beers bottles on it. The walls were bare, adorned only with a layer of dark green paint and a few curtainless windows that were letting in the fading light from the quickly setting sun. In truth, it reminded Ben of a motel room, except that this was maybe a bit newer.

"Beer?" Dean asks, crossing the kitchen to the fridge.

"I'm 18 Dean", Ben replies, a note of amusement in his voice.

"If a man can serve his country, a man can drink a beer. C'mon, I won't tell." Dean says, offering an already open bottle. Dean had slipped a bit of holy water in the bottle while Ben had been looking around; Dean couldn't ignore his hunting instincts telling him this was a trick.

Ben huffs out a small laugh, silently agreeing that an 18 year old should totally be allowed to drink. It's not like he hasn't drank before. It's just that he's never drank with an adult. Especially one that mysteriously disappeared from his life but is now standing right in front of him. He accepts the offered drink with his left hand, still hindered by his casted right.

Leaning against a sink full of dirty dishes, Dean takes a long pull of his own beer, eyeing Ben's cast. "What happened there?"

Ben takes a drink before replying. "Broke it in a car accident. It's really a pain in the ass. Damn tree got the best of me. And my car", Ben added as an afterthought.

Dean inwardly sighs in relief when Ben takes a sip without fuss. Not a demon then. Good. He'd already ruled out skinwalker outside when he had clasped Ben's neck. Dean had taken to wearing a silver ring for the exact purpose of sniffing out skinwalkers. He'd needed the contact, yes, but he'd also needed to know this truly was Ben and not an imposter. Now Dean was forced to accept that the handsome young man standing before him truly was Ben Braeden.

"Well that just sucks."

"Yeah…" Ben trails off. Despite needing and wanting to see Dean so bad for so long, he suddenly has no idea what to say to the man standing in front of him. It was like a wind had blown through him as walked through the front door, leaving him empty of the fire that had ignited his search for so many weeks.

"Wait, so who's ride you got now sitting outside?" Dean asks, puzzled at the sudden realization.

"It was a graduation present. Decided to go on a road trip with it before college." Ben states simply. He avoids saying that it had been a graduation present from his Mom, or that the sole purpose of his road trip was in fact to find Dean. But then again, his Mom didn't know he was looking for Dean either.

"Ah. I see." Dean says, taking a sip of beer in the silence that now falls between them.

"I like your place. It's cozy." Ben says after a fashion, strolling around the small room, fingers trailing on the back of the couch.

"Yup. It's really all I need." Dean says. Ben catches a note of sadness in his voice. He took another swig of his beer, glad to have something to do with his hands.

The two are a little desperate to keep the superficial conversation going, neither wanting to ask the difficult questions that they know only hold more difficult answers. The silence that again falls between them is almost tangible, both men drinking their beers, glancing around the room and avoiding each others eyes. Ben caught Dean looking at him a few times, mystified by his mere presence, brow furrowed in thought. Dean seemed to be steeling himself. Clearing his throat with a small cough, Dean finally breaks the growing tension.

"Ben. How the hell did you find me? Hell, how do you even know me?"

Ben sighed. He had hoped they would be more comfortable with each before he had to explain himself. But maybe explaining himself was what would make them more comfortable. Besides, Dean had his own explaining to do. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the edge.

"It's complicated. But maybe it's not, I don't know. That car accident when I broke my arm? I hit my head pretty hard too. And, I dunno, I started having these dreams. At first I thought it was all the hospital drugs I was on, but then the dreams didn't stop. They were dreams about you. It was weird because I had no idea who you were, but you were there every night. It was pretty damn frustrating, to tell you the truth. But then I had a dream about a warehouse a couple weeks ago. Then it all came back to me." Ben trailed off, lost in the memory.

Dean seemed to be remembering too, his green eyes a storm of memory and pain. He had never forgotten the night that he lost Lisa and Ben. It was the night Castiel betrayed him in the worst way possible, causing him to lose his surrogate family. After Lisa had nearly died, Dean had decided he and his lifestyle were only a danger to them both. He had told himself that it would be easier this way: remove himself from their lives so that it would be like he had never been there. He couldn't stand to see the look of rejection and hate that he was sure Lisa would give him if he had even dared asked her to take him back after what had happened. He'd made the decision without consulting them, sure that there would be no way Lisa would ever take him back when he was such a danger to her and her son. So Dean had Castiel wipe their memories. It was easier that way, Dean reminded himself now.

He had refused to talk to anyone about it. Not even Sam. And now Sam was gone. God knows where Cas was these days.

Ben's talking again, but it takes Dean a few moments to notice, still lost in his thoughts.

"...needed to find you. I needed to know why you had left us. And I couldn't understand why I had forgotten you in the first place. That warehouse is the last thing I remember. Dean, what happened? Why did you leave us? Why couldn't I even remember you? Why Dean?" Ben had finally gotten to the questions that had been burning in the back of his throat, his story slowly building up to them. He hadn't meant to ask them all at once, but they had stumbled out of his mouth before he could catch himself.

Dean sighed deeply, sitting down at the opposite end of the coach from Ben. He sorely wished he had some whiskey right about now, but these days he didn't even let himself buy the stuff for fear he would drink it all in a day. How can he start to explain a decision he wishes he had never had to make? But he has to try. Ben deserves to know.

Dean haltingly explains everything that happened that night, his voice tired and pained. He explains about Lisa and Ben being taken as blackmail by Crowley, explaining too who the hell Crowley is. He mentions Cas, and only alludes to Sam, saying only what he needs to complete the tale. He talks about demons and angels and heaven and hell. He explains that he had somehow gotten into the middle of it, and that his involvement in both that life and Lisa and Ben's lives is what led to Lisa lying on her deathbed. Dean finishes by saying how he needed to remove the threat to their lives: himself. So he had had Cas wipe their memories. Dean would fail to have ever even exist to them.

Ben just sits listening to Dean talk, staring at the floor. The longer Dean talks, the tenser Ben becomes.

When he finishes his story, Dean is tapping his hand against his empty beer bottle. He furtively glances at Ben, who still hasn't said a word.

"Ben?" Dean says quietly after a moment. He's nervous; Ben's face is a mask of calm and it reveals no hints as to how he is taking all this information.

Ben wipes a hand over his face, finally coming out of his trance. "It's not fair Dean. It wasn't just your decision you know. It was my life too. And Mom's." Ben says vehemently.

"I did what I had to do to keep you and your Mom safe. Me - my life- they were dangerous and it hurt you both. I… I couldn't protect you. So I left. I needed you to be safe."Dean says, his voice growing louder with his insistence on this fact.

"Yeah but I needed you!" Ben bursts out, tears leaking out of the corner of his eye. He stands suddenly and storms out of the house. He marches the short distance to where his car is parked, and starts pacing. He had half a mind to leave right then, but his desire to know more over rode the thought. Ben hadn't even realized the truth to his words until they had erupted from mouth. Ever since the warehouse dream Ben had needed to find Dean, but he hadn't known just how much he had been needing Dean since he had left them. In that one year, Dean had cemented himself into their lives, his charm and caring fostering a deep relationship with both Lisa and Ben. He had been everything Ben missed in life, acting as both father and friend. And he had made his mother happy, something that was hard to do these days.

Dean isn't far behind Ben. The air is cool outside, the darkness a strange comfort. It revitalized Dean after being forced to relive memories he wished he'd never had.

Dean slowly approaches Ben, a hand outstretched in surrender. "Ben...I'm - I'm sorry. You're right. It was your life too. And maybe I was more a part of it than I knew. I never would have come back to you in the first place if I knew it would only hurt you in the end. But it's what Sammy wanted for me! Sam knew that I wanted that life, even when I didn't know it. It took you and your Mom for me to realize that. But I couldn't be happy knowing I was hurting you."

Ben's emotions are still running high. Whatever he's feeling, it's making him yell. "That's life Dean! It isn't always good and happy! Sometimes life just sucks and it stabs you in the heart with a knife! But you can't let the pain win. You have to keep going. You have to find the people that make that pain bearable and worth it and that make you happy. The things in life you love the most are the ones that going to hurt the most." Ben's breathing heavily, his emotions getting the better of him. He'd stop pacing at least, now standing opposite Dean with one foot in front of the other as if he were about to take off in a run.

Dean's taking slow, steadying breaths as he lets Ben's words sink in. No one has talked to him like that in a long time. Not even Charlie when she had gotten him off the bottle. His words were were hitting him at his core, resonating in a painfully familiar way. Ben's words were what Sam would have said to Dean.

The two men, one young and old older, are at a stand still, neither wanting to make the first move. Ben can see Dean processing his words.

"I'm sorry Ben. I'm so sorry." Dean says so quietly Ben can hardly hear him. It's all Dean can say. He's defeated and exhausted.

Ben huffs out one last long breath through his nose, seemingly satisfied for now with Dean's response.

Suddenly, the unmistakable and comically loud rumble of Ben's stomach brings them out of their stand off.

Despite themselves and gravity of their current conversation, the two men can't help but grin childishly at each other.

"C'mon. Let's get some food before you die of hunger. I think I have everything for burgers. I make an awesome burger." Dean says, his voice regaining some of its usual bravado.

"Yeah. I, uh, I remember." Ben confesses with a sheepish smile.

Dean returns a small smile, a hint of his old self there.

Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The two of them eat quietly, enjoying what is most definitely an awesome burger. They are both spent from their earlier conversation. They don't say much, except for a brief conversation of how Ben had found Dean. Ben explains how one of his memories was of Dean taking them to Bobby's place after a genie attack.

"It wasn't a genie Ben. It's a Djinn. No lamps or magic carpets." Dean corrects him.

"Yeah ok. I'm still kind of new to this whole 'monsters are real' thing. Give a guy a break. Jeesh" Ben replies jokingly.

Dean grins. The emotion doesn't quite reach his eyes though. Man this kid had sass. If he didn't know better, he would be his kid. But Lisa had always denied it, saying she had been with a lot of guys around that time. Nonetheless though, Dean secretly thought of Ben as his own, even if he wasn't his own flesh and blood. In the end, it didn't really matter all that much to Dean.

"Anyway. I remembered you bringing us to Sioux Falls. I kept pronouncing Sioux wrong and you were getting mad at me."

"Hah. Yeah, I remember."

"I tried to find you on the internet, but you're a damn hard person to find Dean. One of my friends who's like a tech genius couldn't even find you. But then I figured if anyone knew where you were, it would be Bobby. I came to town asking for Bobby Singer, but everyone was saying he was dead and that some different old drunk was living at the salvage yard now."

"Hey I resent that." Dean says reproachfully.

"What, drunk?"

"No, old. I'm not old. Still got plenty of steam left." Dean says proudly.

"Yeah, ok" Ben says, not really believing him. Dean looked older than he remembered. And not just judging by the grey hairs starting to peek through. Ben could see it in his eyes. They had lost much of the spark Ben had loved during the year Dean spent with them. Ben knew there were things Dean wasn't' telling him. Like where Sam was. But Ben wasn't going to press him.

And Dean didn't ask about Lisa. He could only deal with one reunion at a time, and he was only barely handling this one at that.

The longer the two talked, the easier the conversation became. It was natural, despite the harsh words between them earlier. Ben needed more from Dean in way of explanation for his actions. But they had time yet.

Ben's eyes began to grow heavy, and he could no longer deny that it was time for bed. Dean noticed.

"Alright dude. You can take the bed and I'll crash on the coach." Dean says, gathering up their plates and adding them to the already precarious pile of dishes in the sink.

"No way. I'm not stealing your bed. Besides, your old bones need the mattress."

"Har har har. Fine."

Dean turns to walk back to his bedroom, grabbing an extra blanket from a shelf in his closet and a pillow from his bed. He returns to the main room, seeing Ben walk through the front door of the house with a small duffel.

"Thanks." Ben says as Dean hands him the bed stuffs.

"No problem. Couch is pretty comfy. I've slept there plenty of times." Dean confesses.

"Yup- I'll be fine."

Dean gives him a quick smile before turning around to walk back to his bedroom again.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah Ben?"

"It's good to see you." Ben says wholeheartedly, a small smile on his face.

Dean's pauses, not sure how to respond.

"Yeah- you too." Dean says simply, finally making eye contact with Ben for the first time that day.

The two bid each other goodnight, Dean walking back to his bedroom. He catches himself in the bathroom mirror, looking, really looking at himself for the first time in years. He did look older than he felt. But maybe having someone young around for a bit would help. He looked himself in the eye, finally accepting that Ben really and truly was here. And that he wanted to be here. He wanted to be with Dean. Dean smiled sadly at that thought. He hadn't been wanted or needed in a long time. He would have to get used to it.

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_**A/N:** I have a few more chapters to go I think. I welcome your thoughts so please review :)_


	4. Driving

_**A/N**__: First, thank you so much to everyone that has taken a minute to review. The only way I know you all are enjoying reading this is from your reviews. Well, that and those of you who have favorited and followed this story. So glad you all are enjoying reading it as mush as I am enjoying writing it._

This story is becoming more angst than hurt/comfort. H/C stories are usually associated with physical rather than emotional hurt, but I'de like to hear what you guys think about and whether or not you think I should adjust the genre label accordingly. 

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Ben stirs as a ray of summer sunlight falls across his face, the warmth of it pulling him from sleep. He slowly opens his eyes to greet the day, blinking a couple of times in the bright light. Staring up at the ceiling, Ben lets his thoughts wander and he finds himself mulling over his and Dean's conversation from the previous night. It hadn't exactly been the reunion he had anticipated; a lot more angry words and a lot less fond catching up. But there was a lot of time yet, and Ben was determined to restore at least some of his and Dean's relationship. He hadn't driven all the way to South Dakota from Illinois, lying to his mother, to have a yelling match. He'd have to be patient to coax the Dean he knew back out into the world. And he knew, even if Dean didn't, that he was lonely.

His thoughts are permeated by Dean's gentle snores from the room next door.

A small grin appears on his face: He can't believe he actually found Dean.

Figuring he might as well get up with the sun streaming through the curtainless windows, Ben stretches bodily, arms stretched above his head and his feet pushing against the chair arm. The couch was barely long enough for the young man to sleep on. But Dean had been right- it was comfy.

_Coffee. Need coffee._

Ben had developed a real taste for coffee in the past year, perhaps in some weird subconscious preparation for the long, late nights of college that were soon to come. He gets up and walks around the couch into the small kitchen. Rummaging through the few cabinets, Ben finds the a package of coffee in one and a half full box of cereal in another. He sets the coffee and pours himself a bowl of cereal. He's looking through the fridge for milk when he hears a door open.

"Morning." Dean said, his voice gruff with sleep. He shuffles barefoot into the kitchen in a pair of old sweat pants and a tank top gray with age.

"Morning." Ben replies, straightening up with a nearly empty carton of milk in hand.

"Sleep ok?" Dean asks, reaching for a cup of coffee. "Good call on making coffee."

"Yeah of course. I don't wake up without a cup of caffeine in the morning" Ben said, standing next to Dean and grabbing himself a cup of the amber liquid as well.

Dean leans against the counter, and laughs a little as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"What?" Ben asks, eyebrows raised.

"Well the last time I saw you you were barely tall enough to even make coffee, let alone drink it." There's a hint of mirth is in his eyes.

Ben laughs at that. "Yeah… I guess you're right. I got tall." He brings himself up to his full height, as if to prove that fact. He's nearly as tall as Dean.

Ben sits down at the small table, pouring milk into his cereal bowl with his left hand. He was getting pretty good at using his left hand for everything with his right trapped in a cast. He'de be damn near ambidextrous by the end of it. They're both quiet for a while, enjoying the stillness of the morning that's interrupted only by the click of Ben's metal spoon against the porcelain bowl.

"Hey Dean?" Ben says suddenly, laying his spoon in his cereal bowl with a slight clatter.

"Yeah?" Dean says roughly, swallowing a sip of coffee.

"I just...I just want you to know that I understand why you did what you did. I did hear you last night, even if it didn't seem like it. You just wanted me and Mom to be safe and happy." Ben pauses, looking at Dean for a reaction before continuing, "And maybe we were safer without you there, but I don't think we were happier." He said slowly, as if the thoughts are still coming to him as he speaks them.

Dean shifts his feet uncomfortably, staring at the floor. When he doesn't say anything, Ben continues.

"You're different now, you know. Maybe it's because I'm older and I see things differently, but I still think it's true. I don't know what happened in the time you were away from us, and I'm not asking, but it must have been something big." Ben swallows, gathering some courage for his next sentence, "Just...just don't think that you have to face life by yourself, ok? You ran away from me and Mom when things got hard, and I think you're running again now from something. But the only way to get through the tough stuff is with other people. You're only being selfish by running away."

Dean looks at Ben then, making fleeting eye contact before looking away again. He's clutching his mug tightly, like it's the only thing grounding him to reality.

_Jesus, how the hell did this kid get so smart?_ Dean thinks. He remains silent, letting Ben's words sink in. It's terrifying him a bit how much of what Ben says sounds just so, well, _Sam._

Getting a little frustrated with Dean's silence, Ben continues again, "Whatever. That's all I really wanted to say. If you want me to leave I will."

Dean sighs heavily.

"No Ben… I uh...You can stay."

"Do you want me stay?" Ben counters.

Dean looks Ben in the eye, his expression soft. "I want you to stay.", he says quietly.

Dean can't deny it: the kid had a point. Maybe he was running. It had been so long since Dean had even really considered why he did what he did. All he knew was that he had to keep going, and to not look back. That's what Sam had told him to do. But maybe Sam wanted Dean to do more than just keep going. _It's why he wanted me to go back to Lisa and Ben._ Dean thought. _He wanted me to live, not just survive._ Plus, if he's honest, he misses talking to people.

"How the hell'de you get so smart?" Dean asks, voicing his earlier thought.

"Years of practice. Plus my Mom and I talk a lot." Ben replies, shrugging.

Dean pauses a beat before voicing his thought, "Maybe I am running. If I am I don't realize I'm doing it."

"Yeah, well, you run a marathon forever you're gonna drop down dead." Ben said, only slightly joking.

Dean laughs darkly at that. Ben doesn't know how close Dean has come to death, or hell, how many times he _has_ died.

Dean pushes himself against the counter with his hips to get himself standing, and walks over to the sink to deposit his empty coffee mug. "Alright. My bleeding heart can't take any more chick-flick moments. What say you and me fix up some cars? I could really use an extra set of hands on a couple repairs I need to make. Well, extra hand I guess. Gimp." Dean says with his usual bravado, trying to lighten the mood.

"Very funny. I get this off in a couple months. You, however, will always be a grumpy old man."

"Oh, what a come back. Regular jokester we got here" Dean says sarcastically, slapping Ben affectionately upside the head on his way to his bedroom. "Get changed. We have things to do."

Ben smiles. This was going to be interesting.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

An easy camaraderie falls between Dean and Ben as they spend more and more time together. Their days fall into a simple routine: breakfast, work on cars, long lunch, maybe go into town for supplies, dinner in front of the TV watching baseball, then bed. The predictability of it affords Ben and Dean the time and energy to just learn to be around each other.

They talk about everything, making up for lost time. Ben talks about the many, many baseball games that dominated his high school years. He's a pitcher, and more than once voiced his concern about his broken throwing arm to Dean. Dean would always reply that as long as he put enough hard work into it, he could do anything he wanted. _What a fatherly thing to say._ Dean would always think to himself on those occasions.

More often than not, the two of them could be found out in the yard, working on whatever car came their way. This was when they talked the most, betwen Dean teaching Ben about carburetors and pistons. Ben would ask Dean about hunts; now that he knew that monsters really were real, he had an almost insatiable curiosity about them. At first, Dean refused, saying Ben didn't need to know the details of the supernatural world. After a while though, Dean realized Ben was just as stubborn as his mother, and he caved.

Dean started with the hunts he and his father had gone on, talking about the werewolf they had ganked on Dean's first hunt (Sammy was too young at the time and had been left behind), or a particularly vengeful ghost the two of them had hunted soon after Sam had gone off to Stamford. Ben was enraptured, fascinated by the secret life Dean had hid from him and his mother. He would ask simple questions that he knew would usually elicit another tale from Dean. Like how to kill a vampire, which contrary to popular belief was not with a wooden stake to the heart. Eventually, though, Ben noticed Dean was avoiding stories that made mention of his brother. He realized it, but also had enough mind to not ask about it. He had already forced Dean into his memories enough. He knew he could only push him so much before Dean pushed back. And it wouldn't be pretty if he did. So he left it alone.

One afternoon, a few days after Ben had arrived at Singer Salvage, the two of them are working on the Mustang. Just as Ben's leaning over the engine, his cell phone rings.

"Hey Mom." Dean hears Ben say as he walks a few paces away from where they're working. Despite the short distance, Dean can hear Lisa's voice through the phone. His heart clenches at the memory of her. Her dark hair, framing her beautiful face, alight with her big bold smile. He hasn't allowed himself to think about her in years. What was the point? But now, when he hasn't heard her voice in years, he can't help but think about her. He busies himself with the task before him, grabbing a wrench from his toolbox, trying to ignore Ben's conversation. But he can't help but overhear all of it.

"Yeah I'm fine. Just drove through Yellowstone! Yeah the geysers were amazing. Yes, I'm being careful" Ben says with a not so subtle eye roll. He absentmindedly digs the toe of his sneaker into the dirt, listening to his mother speak. "I dunno. I think I'm heading back your way soon. It'll take me a few days to get there. I'll let you know when to expect me when I'm closer to Illinois." He pauses, examining the pattern he's made in the dirt in his distraction, as he listens again. "Yeah Mom, I know. I'll see you soon. Love you too."

Pocketing his phone, Ben walks back over to where Dean is leaning over the open hood of the car.

"That your Mom?" Dean asks nonchalantly, still working to get the wrench onto a screw head buried deep in the engine compartment.

"Yup." Ben leans against the Mustang, his back facing Dean. "So you heard huh?"

Dean straightens, abandoning his feeble attempt to get yet another screw loose. He drops his wrench with a clatter into the toolbox between the two of them. "She doesn't know you're here, does she?"

"No. She didn't need to know." Ben said simply. _Not yet anyway._ He thinks to himself.

Dean pulls a rag from the toolbox instead, beginning to wipe the grease and dirt off his hands. "She doing ok?" Dean asks casually.

Ben stares out over the car filled junkyard, eyes squinted against the bright light. "Yeah. She works a lot. But we keep each other company." Ben sneaks a glance at Dean out of the corner of his eye. He's staring down at his hands, preoccupied with getting the stubborn grease and dirt out of the cracks in his skin.

"She's lonely you know. She dated a couple other guys after...after you left. But none of them ever stay long. Every time she breaks up with the latest guy she tells me that I'm the only guy for her. But I'm going off to college in a few weeks, and I'm honestly a little worried about her all alone at home."

"Your mom is tough Ben. I'm sure you know that." Dean said. His voice is rough, trying to hide the emotion that's threatening to take over.

"Yeah I know. I mean, she raised me practically all by herself. But still. I dunno. Maybe I've gotten protective of her over the years" Ben's quite now, thoughtful. An idea strikes him, and though it might be rash and he was sure Dean would say no anyway, he figures he might as well give it a try.

"Hey Dean? Do you maybe...do you maybe want to come back to Illinois with me?" He lets the question hang in the air for a moment before the next set of words rush out of his mouth, "You wouldn't even have to be you. You could just be a guy I met who helped me when my car broke down. I know you want to see her Dean." Ben turned around to face Dean now, needing to see his reaction.

Dean glances up at Ben, seeing the excitement and eagerness on his face. "Ben I ca..." he starts, before Ben cuts him off.

"You what? You can't?! Oh please Dean. You killed freaking monsters for a living, but you can't face the woman you loved?" Ben says, suddenly angry. He takes a couple deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Once he feels his anger ebb away, he continues. "Please Dean. Everything that happened was years ago. You have to at least see her again. She would want to see you." Ben says more calmly now, his eyes almost begging. "Promise me you'll at least think about it."

Dean sighs deeply, dropping the shop rag he been cleaning his hands with on the ground. "Fine. I'll think about it."

Ben beams.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The next day, while Dean's in town getting some parts, Ben finds the Impala tucked away in one of the garages on the property. He remembers it from years ago. Back then, Dean had hidden it away under a tarp in Lisa's garage. But Ben would sneak out when he thought Dean wasn't looking, and peel back the tarp a bit to marvel at her. He would wonder about all the adventures Dean had had, driving such a beautiful big black car around the country. Dean had never talked about it much. And now, only at Ben's insistence, had he started opening up about that part of his life. Every story though, he would describe the Impala in reverent tones. Even now, at 50 years old, the car was a beauty. A classic in it's own right. The car was outdated, guzzling fuel that had peaked at $6 dollars a gallon that year, and lacking the safety equipment that made it even remotely safe to drive with all the modern cars whizzing by at 70 MPH.

Ben daydreamed about driving the car himself, finally old enough to do so. He was lost in his thoughts, imagining the feel of the leather behind him as he floored the accelerator. So he didn't notice when Dean returned home from town.

"Hey." Dean says loudly, dropping some parts loudly on a work bench.

Ben jumps guiltily. "Oh- hey Dean."

"She's still a beauty, huh?" Dean said, joining Ben in admiring the car.

"Definitely." Ben said appreciatively.

"Can I drive her?" Ben asks suddenly, his desire to do so over riding his attempts to not pry any more into Dean's life.

Dean's startled by the request. The car hadn't been driven in over three years. He just couldn't, after losing Sam. Everything about that car was a memory, a whole life Dean had left behind. It was a memory Dean wasn't sure he was ready to face. He was half worried the engine wouldn't even start. But Ben's words from earlier in the week echo in Dean's mind: _...I think you're running again now from something. But the only way to get through the tough stuff is with other people. You're only being selfish by running away._ Dean sighs internally, resigning himself to saying yes. But there was still no way he would let Ben drive it.

"I don't know man. You don't have the best track record. Don't think I trust you with my baby." Dean said, indicating Ben's broken arm.

"Aw c'mon Dean. That wasn't my fault. Stupid deer in the road made me do it. I drove all the way here by myself, didn't I?" Ben's trying his best to make a case for himself.

"Tell you what. I'll drive, and you can sit shotgun. That's already an honor. No if ands or buts about it." Dean walks off to find the keys.

Overjoyed at the mere prospect of sitting in the car that he had admired for years, Ben runs around to the passenger side door. He opens it the door with a creak and slides onto the leather bench seat. The seats a little worn, the leather cracked from years of use. Ben can feel a distinct dent in the seat, one that indicated one person usually frequented this seat more than anyone else.

"Sam." Ben whispers before he can catch himself.

"What's that?" Dean asks as he approaches the driver's door, the window open.

"Nothing" Ben says quickly, craning his neck to see Dean through the window as he opens the driver's door.

Dean slips into the leather seat next to Ben, shutting the door with a creak and a bang. He just sits for a minute, suddenly lost in the comforting familiarity of it all. There was some kind of sad yearning there too, though. The Impala had been the one constant in his life; for all intents and purposes, it was Dean's home. Ben gives him a minute of nostalgia before calling his name quietly. Dean stirs himself, and with a quick glance and grin at Ben, he turns the key.

The engine roars to life, like it had been driven just yesterday. The familiar sound elicits a huge smile from Ben, and a small sad one from Dean.

They take off, leaving Singer Salvage far behind in a cloud of dust. Dean finds an infrequently used back road near the county border, and floors it. Despite himself, Dean is grinning childishly, a sparkle in his eye. He forgot how much he loved driving this car, not just because it was home for him, but because it was simply an amazing car to drive.

"Holy shit Dean! Slow down!"

"No freakin' way man! This babys been cooped up far too long!" Dean nearly yells over the roar of the engine.

They drive for nearly an hour, only corn fields as far as the eye can see. The sun is slowly starting to set, casting an orangey glow over the scene. The longer they drive, the quieter Dean is becoming, the sparkle disappearing from his eye.

Suddenly, Dean pulls over next to yet another corn field and shuts off the engine.

"What? We out of gas?" Ben questions, puzzled at the sudden stop.

Dean ignores the question, instead getting out of the car and starting to walk briskly away from it down the shoulder of the road.

"Dean! Hey!" Ben exclaims, getting out of the car as well and jogging a bit to catch up with Dean. Dean doesn't stop walking, his pace nearly a run, even when Ben gets level with him and adopts his swift pace.

Ben grabs Dean's arm, forcing him to stop and face him. "Dean! Where are you going!?" It's only then that Ben notices the tears in his eyes.

"It's all my fault Ben. I killed Sam."

Ben's shocked. He didn't think Dean would be capable of killing a man in cold blood, least of all his own brother. Monsters sure. But people...?

"I didn't pull the trigger, but I may as well have." Dean continues, registering Ben's shock. Ben relaxes at that.

"I was selfish. I needed him alive more than he needed to be alive. I tricked him. And then he had to clean up my mess when it all went to shit. It's all my fault Ben. It's all my fault. It's ALWAYS my fault" Dean's voice gets louder with his insistence, finally letting loose what he had only ever spoken of, and then only barely, with Charlie.

Ben doesn't know how to respond, and just stands there for a moment, watching the usually strong man completely crumble before him. Dean's crying, his shoulder shaking.

In the last year Ben's had to deal with some friends who got hysterical like this after drinking a bit, and he's gotten pretty good at talking them into a calm. But this was pure emotion not fueled by alcohol. This Ben doesn't know how to take care of. Especially because Dean was an adult. It hurt Ben to see him breaking down like this, and he desperately wanted to help. He just didn't know how. He thinks about what his mother would do; she always knew what to do.

Ben takes a step forward, and clasps Dean's shoulder. At first, Dean tenses at the touch. But then Ben can feel Dean's shoulders fall, letting his wall down and before Ben can realize what was happening, Dean grabs him in a desperate, crushing hug.

Ben just hugs him back, hanging on for dear life.

They stand like that for a little while until Dean regains his composure.

"Damn it man. You have to stop getting all these chick flick moments out of me." Dean says, a weak attempt at a joke.

"I"m not doing it on purpose" Ben says, shrugging.

The two walk back to the Impala, the car glowing orange in the setting sun. Dean fishes out an old flask of whiskey from the glove compartment, God only knowing how long it had been there. The two sit on the hood of the Impala in the setting sun, passing the flask between them.

Dean tells Ben everything. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Two days later, Dean walks into the living room to find Ben packing.

"You leaving then? Dean asks.

"Yeah. It's kind of getting time for me to be home. I can only lie to Mom for so long. Plus I've been here like two weeks man. I figure you're getting pretty sick of me at this point. And your coach is killing my back." Ben replies, stuffing a couple of shirts into his duffle.

"Hey I offered my bed. You refused"

Ben huffs out a small laugh in reply. "True."

Dean smiles sadly. He'de gotten used to having Ben around, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do once he left. He watches Ben pack for a bit, leaning against the door jamb.

"Stop staring at me. You're giving me the heebie jeebies." Ben said, noticing Dean watching him.

Realizing that he really just doesn't want to be alone anymore, Dean makes a split second decision.

"Can I come with you?" Dean asks. He can't be alone any more. Not now that he knows he can open up to someone and they won't run away. And he can't deny his desire to see Lisa again. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about her since over hearing Ben's conversation with her a couple days ago.

Ben stops mid motion, a pair of old jeans in hand. He looks at Dean. "You serious?"

"Yeah...you know, I am." Dean swallows in nervousness. "I can only run for so long, right?", a brief smile accompanying his words.

Dropping his jeans, Ben crosses the room and hugs Dean.

_Kid really needs a guy around. The number of chick flick moments is really getting ridiculous._ Dean thinks to himself.

_Guess that's going to be me._  
_  
_

* * *

_**A/N:**__ I will be traveling next week, so I may not be able to update on Friday. Sorry! I'll do my best though._

As always, let me know your thoughts! Lisa will finally make an appearance next chapter. 


	5. Running

_**A/N:** Sorry this chapter is so late! I'm traveling internationally for the holidays, so I'm just a teeny bit busy. I also don't think I'll have time to update this week. Again, SORRY. But I am happily surprised by the all the positive response I'm getting. :)_

* * *

Ben and Dean leave Singer Salvage early the next morning, Dean following Ben in the Impala. There had been a bit of an argument about it before they left. Ben was insisting they drive together while Dean stubbornly stuck to driving separately.

"I'm driving the Impala and that's final." Dean said, stuffing a couple shirts into a green canvas duffle bag.

"Oh c'mon. It's stupid for us to drive all that way separately when we can drive together. I can drive you back here later." Ben argued, secretly hoping 'later' would be a lot later.

"What? You drive 9 hours just to drop me off? And then another 9 to go home? That's just a waste of your time and mine." Dean paused his packing, his hands resting on the top of the chair his duffle was on, staring down at it. After taking a calming breath, Dean said quietly, "I said I would come with you. I didn't say I would stay."

When Ben didn't say anything, Dean zipped up his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he continued with more earnest, "Besides, baby needs to be put through her paces after sitting for so long."

"Yeah bu.." Ben started.

"No." Dean said, his insistence apparent. "You're already way too optimistic about all this. I'm driving myself." Dean said with an air of finality, storming off without waiting for a reply. He walked outside to put his duffle bag in the Impala, cementing his decision.

As he loaded his bag in the trunk of the Impala, Dean was regretting his split decision of the previous night to accompany Ben home. It had been a decision borne out of loneliness, and Dean hadn't really considered the whole situation. Not like he was going to tell Ben that though, who was excited beyond words that Dean had actually and sincerely decided to come with him. Dean had grown fond of Ben over the past two weeks, and wanted to see him home safely. Plus the drive, while a short one for Dean's standards, would get out him of South Dakota; he was eager to see something besides corn for change. But he hadn't fully considered one large factor: Lisa.

Slamming the trunk of the Impala shut, Dean called out to Ben who was walking out of the house. "C'mon slowpoke. We gatta make good time if we want to reach Urbana by tonight." Ben closed the door behind him, his own bag slung over his shoulder.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I'm coming. Can we at least kind of obey the speed limits? I'm not really in the mood for another broken arm right before college starts." Ben replied, still a bit bitter about Dean winning their argument. He tossed his bag into the back seat.

"Fine. But you can't stop me from putting Baby through her paces every now and then. The road is calling my name. And don't stop to pee every 5 minutes." Dean countered, a cheeky grin on his face.

Ben rolled his eyes, laughing a little. It was good to see Dean smile, just like Ben remembered him. He climbed into his own car, a decade old Honda Civic. It was a little pathetic looking, but reliable. And it had been all Lisa could afford on her meager salary.

And so they had set off, leaving Singer Salvage behind in a cloud of dust.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

They were now a couple hours into the drive, Ben leading the way. Ben had explained to Dean that they had moved from Michagn a few months after Dean had inexplicably disappeared from their lives (not that they noticed). After several murders in Battle Creek, Lisa just didn't feel safe any more raising a child by herself in that neighborhood. She had found a job in Illinois, and decided a move would be the best for her and her son. So now Illinois was Ben and Dean's destination.

Dean drummed his thumbs to the beat of the music against the steering wheel, eyes squinting in the clear, bright light of mid morning. The blissful monotony of the drive set in, allowing his thoughts to wander. Dean's first thought? _Damn I love this car._ It was simple, classic, and quietly ferocious. In a way, it was the same reputation Dean hoped he gave off. If he was honest with himself though (which he was increasingly becoming with Ben around) his life was far from simple. And classic? Dean wasn't sure when leather jackets stopped being cool, but he still insisted on wearing his anyway. The older Dean got, the more he felt his muscles ache, his bones creak. All those burgers and beer and injuries had caught up to Dean cruelly quick in the last year. He wasn't nearly the ferocious hunter he had been in his early 20s, but he could proudly still hold his own.

Regardless, he hoped he was still enough of the man he once was to make some kind of lasting impression on Lisa. She may not remember who he was exactly, but that didn't stop Dean from wanting to impress her. And not in the, _Hey I'm Dean let me buy you a drink and then maybe you want to go back to my motel? _kind of way_._ He wanted to light up her face with some kind of stupid joke, making her truly happy for the briefest of moments. He wanted to hug her, and for her to feel safe in his arms. He wanted to see Lisa be a mother to her son. He had truly loved her during that year, maybe still did love her, and that meant Dean needed her happiness almost more than he needed his own. And he owed her a few simple joys, even if she didn't know him. He had put her through hell the last time he had shown up on her doorstep, depressed, guilty, and vaguely violent. But Lisa had been patient with him, even when Dean told the crazy story of Sam had jumping into Lucifer's cage.

He had no idea how this was even going to work, with Dean walking into Lisa's house and posing as some guy who had helped Ben with some car issue along the way. It all sounded kind of creepy and suspicious. And it wasn't only that; Dean didn't know what he wanted out of this interaction. Was he excepting to have her fall in love with him again? Maybe. A lot of it would depend on Lisa, he supposed.

So in the end, he did want to stay in town for a bit. Get to know Lisa again. But for her sake. Not his. And for Ben's sake.

All he knew was that he didn't want to run anymore. But he also couldn't help it if the need took over him. He couldn't hurt Lisa or Ben any more.

Maybe it would be better to confess to Ben his true reason for wanting to drive separately: he needed the option to run.

As that thought crossed his mind, Dean shifted in his seat, glancing down at his watch. _Nearly food time, thank God._ Seemingly in agreement, Ben's turn signal in front of Dean indicated he was taking the exit.

They pulled into a diner, Dean parking next to Ben.

"Food time, yeah?" Ben called out as he stepped out of his car.

"You know it." Dean said appreciatively.

They grabbed a booth inside, each ordering a BLT sandwich and a soda from the blond, curvy waitress.

"So, what's the plan for when we get there?" Dean asked between blissful bites of bacon.

Ben answered through a mouthful of sandwich, brows furrowed. "I thought we talked about this?" He swallowed, and then continued, "I was just thinking you would come in to like, introduce yourself as the guy who helped me a little while back when my car broke, and you just wanted to be sure I got home. I figure Mom will probably invite you in to dinner."

"Yeah ok." Dean chewed contemplatively. That wasn't exactly what he meant by plan.

Ben noticed his uncertainty. "You said you wanted to come Dean. I figured this would be the best story to tell that would make Mom want to invite you in for a bit. Because you coming home with me was you wanting to see Mom, right?"

"I mean…yeah. And I do want to make sure you get home ok. That part isn't a lie. But I just want you to be realistic about this Ben. As far as your Mom knows, we're strangers."

Ben paused before answering. "…I know."

His pause gave him away though; Dean knew Ben well enough by now to know that he had already imagined some kind of romantic reunion scene between Dean and Lisa, his mother miraculously remembering Dean and falling madly in love with him. It was an impossibility that wouldn't even happen in Dean's messed up world where people came back from the dead on a fairly regular basis.

Dean looked at Ben closely, his eyes searching his face. Ben, sitting across from Dean, avoided his intense gaze. Dean put down his sandwich.

"What are you expecting here Ben? That I'm going to show up on your Mom's door, she'll magically remember everything, forgive me for it, _and_ want me to stay? That we're going to suddenly be a happy family? That's some kind of fairy tale ending that is just not going to happen."

Ben was quiet for a minute, both hurt and measuring his next words before speaking them.

"I don't know what I'm expecting Dean. I have no idea what my mother will say or do. But I know you want to see her, and I know you don't want to be alone anymore. I'm just hoping you'll maybe stay in town for a bit. Maybe get to know Mom a bit again. She's lonely too you know. I'm just… I'm hoping you don't run Dean. I don't want you to disappear from my life again. Not now that I've found you." Ben said slowly.

Dean looked at him sadly. The kid had the astonishingly ability to romanticize every situation immediately. It made him simultaneously incredibly mature, and incredibly naïve.

Dean sighed. "I'm not going to leave you Ben." Dean said, looking Ben straight in the eyes. "Whatever happens with your Mom, I won't leave you. I promise."

Ben picked at his cast distractedly.

"Seriously?" Ben asked quietly.

"Seriously." Dean said, his sincerity evident. Ben smiled. Dean took a quick, deep breath and then signaled for the check.

"Alright. Well. Let's get going. We still have like 5 hours to go. Probably more like 6 with your slowpoke driving." Dean pulled out some cash and left on the table with the check.

Ben huffed out a laugh. "Yeah ok. Whatever, old man." Ben said with a cheeky grin, slipping out of the booth and following Dean outside.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ben and Dean pulled up to Lisa's house just as dusk fell, the evening sky tinted with glorious shades of red, orange and yellow. Ben breathed in deep as he stepped out of the car and stretched. After weeks of being on the road and sleeping on an old couch in dusty South Dakota, Ben was glad to be back home among the trees. And his own bed. _And _his mom's cooking.

Yeah, it was good to be home.

Dean followed Ben up the walk, trailing a little behind the young man. Ben grasped the handle of the front door, and sneaked a glance at Dean over his shoulder. Ben raised his eyebrows in question, a small reassuring smile accompanying it.

_You ready? _His face said.

Dean gave him a small nod. The checked pattern of the glass front door filtered the light from inside onto his face in a strange pattern, masking his emotions.

Ben turned the handle and stepped into the small foyer, Dean trailing him.

"Mom! I'm home!"

A few seconds passed, quiet except for the pitter patter of feet upstairs and the pounding of Dean's heart. He was sure Ben could hear it.

Lisa appeared at the top of the stairs wearing jeans and a simple V-neck t-shirt. "Ben! I didn't hear you pull up!" Her wide smile lit up her whole face, her deep brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

She was just as beautiful as Dean remembered her.

"Hey Mom." Ben said wholeheartedly, returning her wide smile as she came down the stairs.

Mother and son hugged tightly, Lisa barely tall enough to wrap her arms around Ben's neck.

As they broke apart, Lisa noticed Dean for the first time. "Who's this?" Lisa asked breathlessly. Dean still hadn't made a sound, and had eyes only for Lisa.

"Oh sorry. This is Dean, Mom. My car died in the middle of nowhere just as I crossed into Illinois. My cell was dead, but luckily Dean was passing by and helped me fix my car. He's a pretty handy mechanic. Lucky huh? He wanted to make sure I made it home ok so he followed me here. " Ben was smiling.

Dean gave a sheepish grin as Ben told their little story.

"Well you're lucky you had Dean to help you or you would be sleeping in your car tonight. I thought you were more responsible than that Ben." Lisa admonished Ben, but her tone was playful and a smile still decorated her face. "Thank you Dean. I really do appreciate your help," she said in a more serious tone.

Ben nudged Dean with his elbow when he didn't respond.

"Oh! Ah… Sorry. Long drive. Yeah it was no problem. I, uh, happened to be passing by and saw he needed the help. Couldn't just abandon him." Dean said.

"My name's Lisa by the way. Lisa Braeden," Lisa offered her hand to shake Dean's. For a moment, it simply hung in the space between them, an invitation.

Dean hesitated, bracing himself before accepting the invitation that was Lisa's hand. "Dean, but I guess you know that already." Dean said, his trademark smile finally making an appearance. His large calloused hand shook Lisa's much smaller, softer ones.

At Dean's touch, Lisa winched ever so slightly. It was as if a tiny bolt of lighting had passed between them. But Dean's face revealed nothing. _That was weird._ She thought. Mentally shaking herself, she dismissed it.

"Well, Dean I was actually just about to take dinner out of the oven. Will you stay? It's the least I can do as a thank you for helping Ben."

Ben looked at Dean, hands in his pockets, eyes hopeful.

"Well, I can't say no to a warm home cooked meal very well now can I?" Dean said.

Ben beamed.

They walked into the kitchen through a swinging door, the wonderfully delicious smell of lasagna greeting them.

"Wow that smells amazing Lisa." Dean said appreciatively. It smelled just like he remembered it.

"Oh! Thanks! Just lasagna you know. Nothing special really. Would you like something to drink? Water? Wine? A beer maybe?"

"A beer would be great actually, thanks."

"Can I get one Mom?" Ben asked.

"No way Jose. You may almost be a college boy but you're not drinking age yet." Lisa responded, handing Dean an open beer.

Dean and Ben exchanged a glance, repressing gleeful smiles. The two had had their share of beers over late night talks the past two weeks. It was like they had been caught in the act now.

They all sat down at the round kitchen table, each helping themselves to a hefty helping of lasagna. They talk about this and that, Ben recounting the road trip adventures he had supposedly had while he had actually been staying with Dean. Dean was mostly quiet, listening, interjecting here and there with a few witty comments or remarks, making Lisa smile each time. She was sneaking glances at the handsome man sitting across from her. _God he looks familiar. Where have I seen him before? _Finally, Dean catches her looking at him, and holds her gaze. The two stare at each other, suddenly oblivious to Ben's retelling of how he had supposedly dropped his favorite hat in a mineral pool in Yellowstone.

"…so then there was like this big ass gust of wide out of nowhere and my Cubs cap just went fly…Mom? Mom, stop staring you're being weird. Mom!"

Lisa started. "What? Oh sorry Dean I don't mean to stare. I just… I'm sorry but you look really familiar to me. Have we maybe met somewhere before?" Lisa asked, her brow furrowed in question.

Dean and Ben exchanged a quick, but significant glance.

"No…uh. No. I don't think we've met before. I don't come to Urbana often. People do say that to me a lot though. I guess I just look like a movie star." Dean said, taking a sip of beer from the bottle, his green eyes catching the light. His charm was undeniable, and with those green eyes and handsome face Lisa could definitely picture him in the movies.

"Yeah… yeah maybe that's it. Sorry. Anyway, sorry where were you Ben sweetheart?"

Ben had an amused half grin on his face, his eyes darting between his mother and Dean.

"Oh, I was just telling how I lost my Cubs cap in Yellowstone. Guess that just means we'll have to go to another game some time and get a new one, huh Mom?" Ben said.

"Maybe so." Lisa said with a smile that was secretly saying yes.

They finished up dinner, Ben helping clear the plates.

"I'm going to go grab my stuff out of my car and start unpacking. Be right back." Ben called out as he walked out of the kitchen, keys jangling in hand.

"Here let me help you with those. I'll dry." Dean said.

"Thanks. I always appreciate a man with manners." Lisa said.

The two of them stood side by side in the small kitchen, Lisa washing on the left while Dean dried on the right.

"So, I haven't really heard much from you yet Dean. What do you do?" Lisa asked.

"I'm a mechanic. I work out in South Dakota actually, but I've been on a road trip for the past few days. Just wanted a change of scenery from all the corn." Dean replied, taking a dripping dish from Lisa.

"Well I think you're going to have to drive farther than Urbana to escape the corn fields."

Dean laughed a little. "Yeah, everything's pretty corny around here."

Lisa snorted a laugh at the terrible pun. Dean forgot she did that sometimes. He felt his heart skip a beat, remembering now. It was endearing, despite her embarrassment.

"Well here are you heading next? Going to try and escape all the corniness?" She countered with a grin.

"I think I'm going to head to the coast. I haven't seen the ocean in a long time, and the cool air will be nice." Dean replied. Now that he thought about it, that actually wasn't a half bad idea.

"No family?" Lisa asked.

Dean stiffened. He was afraid she would ask. "I did." He replied flatly. An image of Sam flashed through his mind, haggard but determined at the end when he had regained control of his body from Ezekiel.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Lisa said, concern showing on her face.

With each passing of a plate between between them, Dean inched closer to Lisa. Lisa noticed, but found herself not really minding as this _Dean_ moved closer. He was kind, certainly handsome, and he Ben liked him, that was a good sign. There was also just something about him that made Lisa trust him, despite him being a complete stranger to her.

"It's ok. It was a while ago. What about you? Just Ben?" Dean said, his fingers grazing Lisa's as he took the cup from her hand.

"Yeah. Just me and Ben. We're good that way though. We're used to it."

"I find it hard to believe a beautiful woman like you could be single for long." Dean said, trying to come across as sincerely as possible.

Lisa noticed it, and blushed like a schoolgirl. It had been a long time since someone had called her beautiful, let alone a complete stranger. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear on the side Dean was on. "Thank you. But no. I'm single. I don't know. Guys just never did it for me. There was just always something missing, you know?"

"Yeah. I know what you mean. You just want someone that just gets you. But it has to be someone who will put up with all your crap too. And laugh about it later." Dean said, remembering how much of that Lisa had done for him.

As Dean realized now, there was no doubt about it: Lisa had been the only woman to make Dean fall in love.

"Yeah. That sounds about right."

They were touching now, shoulders brushing into each other despite Lisa's only reaching halfway up Dean's bicep. Lisa could feel the anticipation growing between, but of what she didn't know. She didn't even know this man. This man who smelled of gasoline, and leather, and Old Spice, the mix of them a familiar smell that tugged at her heart for some unknown reason.

Dean couldn't help it anymore. He had no idea what to except when he had walked into Lisa's house tonight, but now all he wanted was to kiss her. To tell her he was sorry for everything he done and been before. To tell her how amazing she is. To tell her again how beautiful she is. He wanted to be here with her. Here, with Lisa and Ben. His instinct to run was gone.

A single black curl of hair had escaped from behind Lisa's ear. Dean put down the dish he was drying, and gently tucked it behind her ear. She tensed at the unexpected touch, and turned to look up into his face. Brown eyes met green. His hand rested on her check, cupping her face.

"Dean, listen, I…"

But Dean didn't listen. He leaned down and kissed Lisa lightly, both of them taking a deep breath as lips met lips.

Instantly, image upon image flashed through Lisa's mind: Dean, helping Ben fix his bike; Dean, standing on her doorstep, taking her up on a beer; Dean, helping make breakfast on a Saturday morning for the three of them; Dean, drinking whiskey and talking about the Devil and Sam as she listened; Dean kissing her, just like he was kissing her now.

Dean. Dean Winchester.

She pulls away, shocked.

"Dean? Is it…How are you even here right now?"

"It doesn't matter Lisa. It's really me, and I'm really here."

Dean leaned in to kiss her again, deeper this time.

There would be enough time for question later.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A man with dark hair stood with hands in his pockets under a tree in the backyard of Lisa's house, hidden in shadow. He watched in earnest through the kitchen window that hung above the sink as Dean and Lisa talked and slowly moved closer together.

They kissed.

He smiled.

* * *

_**A/N:** __I think I have one or maybe two more chapters to go. _Again, I won't be able to update this Friday (sorry!) but I'll be back for sure the week after. As always, let me know your thoughts, positive or negative! 


	6. Whiskey and Scotch

**_AN_**_: Sorry this is late! I was planning to write most of this on the plane ride home, but my computer died much faster than I had hoped._

_As a slight consolation, I have also posted a revised version of Chapter 2: Classic Cars. My reasons for doing so are posted in that chapter. No significant plot points have changed._

* * *

Lisa didn't want to move.

She didn't want to leave this comfortable place, where everything felt good and right and safe. She was happy here. Nothing else mattered.

Still standing in the kitchen, Lisa and Dean were locked in a tight embrace. Lisa's cheek rested against Dean's chest, her eyes closed. Her arms were tightly wrapped around his torso. She needed to feel him against her to know that he was real and solid and that he was really and truly here. She breathed in his scent, lost in his mere presence.

God she had missed this.

Dean didn't want to let go either. His chin rested on top of Lisa's head, his strong arms holding her to him. He was afraid if he let go, she might disappear. He was terrified that all of this was some terrible dream, or perhaps even a poison from some malicious monster he should be hunting. Because there was no way he could be this happy and it be real.

_This is real._ He reminded himself.

Neither of them wanted to break the moment, willing it to go on forever. But Lisa couldn't deny the nagging thoughts and questions that were puncturing the bubble of peace in which she and Dean currently resided. Lisa suddenly broke away from Dean, taking several steps back and startling Dean in the process. She ran her hands through her dark hair, her burning need for answers and explanations making her restless.

"Dean… I-I don't even know where to start. It's been years. _Years._ Where have you been?" Lisa said accusingly.

Dean cowered at her words. He said nothing, waiting for more.

"I'm sorry. I just… I don't understand this. You were with us for that year, and then Sam came back, and then you were just gone. And now suddenly, _somehow_, you're here again. How? Why Dean?"

The sudden flood of questions overwhelmed Dean. So many of these things he didn't want to have to tell her. He didn't want to have to explain himself, again. But he had known that this part of their reunion was inevitable. Ben's words suddenly rang through his mind: _You can't live alone. You can't run forever._

He sighed heavily. "It's… complicated."

Lisa looked expectantly at him, arms crossed. His vague response frustrated her.

"Can we… can we maybe go sit down? I don't think you'll want to stand for all of this." Dean asked hesitantly.

"Sure." Lisa said curtly.

She led him through the kitchen to a small, dark living room. Lisa switched on a table lamp, casting a warm glow over the room. A fireplace adorned one wall, the mantle holding photos of Lisa and Ben over the years. Dean looked at them, struck by how quickly life can seem to pass when documented in a few photos. He wondered what had happened to those photos with himself in them; he figured Cas had something to do with it.

Life had gone for Lisa and Ben, just as it had for Dean. Their lives had just been very, very different.

"Here." Lisa said. She handed him a glass of scotch, holding one for herself in her other hand.

"Thanks." Dean said gruffly.

A red couch was situated opposite the fireplace. Lisa sat down with a leg folded under her and took a sip from her glass. She looked at Dean, silently inviting him to sit. Lisa knew she would have to be patient to get the whole story out of Dean, but she still needed some questions answered now.

Dean took him his time walking over, sitting down heavily next to Lisa. He took a sip from his own glass, ice cubes clinking in the silence.

"You said it was complicated. I'm listening." Lisa said patiently. Her frustration of just a few minutes ago was gone, replaced with concern as she looked at Dean.

Dean sighed. "What do you remember?"

Lisa thought about it, sifting through her newly reacquired memories.

"The hospital. You were there, but I didn't know who you were. And then you left. That was the last we saw of you. What happened Dean?" Lisa had a puzzled expression on her face, as if she was trying to figure out how any of that could even be.

Dean took another sip of scotch, trying to gain some courage. He stared down at the glass clutched between his hands, and wearily started his tale.

"After the warehouse, I realized you and Ben would always be in danger as long as I could even be remotely tied to you. You had already sent me away, or maybe I drove myself away, I don't know. But I still cared about you Lisa. I did. And as long as that was true, you were both targets. I needed to make sure you were safe…and that could only happen if I wasn't a part of your life." Dean paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I had a friend erase your and Ben's memories of me. I figured…if I had never been in your life, you could never be hurt." Dean was staring down at his hands, not daring to look at Lisa for fear of what he may find there. Or maybe he was scared he would break down.

Lisa looked at Dean, a sad expression on her face.

"Dean." Lisa said quietly.

Dean didn't move.

"Dean, look at me. Please."

He obliged, world-weariness etched on his face. Tears were beginning to leak out of the corner of his eyes.

"Dean. You did what you had to to keep me and Ben safe. I know that, I do, because I know you. Even after all these years I know you. You did what you do best- you protect the people you love."

Dean was silently crying now.

"No I don't Lisa. No matter what I do, people still get hurt. I did it to you. I did it to Ben. And I did it Sam. I'm not strong enough."

Lisa hadn't expected Sam to come into the picture, but now wasn't the time to question it.

"Dean, what ever happened to Sam, I know it wasn't your fault. I know you did what you needed to help and protect him." Lisa told him insistently.

"But it was my fault Lisa. I needed him to be alive. Not for him, but for me. I was selfish. I know that now." Dean drained his glass, and set it on the coffee table in front of him. He wearily wiped a hand over his face, trying to clear away his tears.

Lisa caught his hand as it moved away from his face, and held onto it tightly with both of her own. Dean was startled at the touch, but didn't pull away.

Lisa looked intently at him. "It's not your fault that you care Dean. It's what makes you human, and not like the monsters that you hunt. You love some people so much that you forget that they love you too."

Dean scoffed.

"It's true Dean. And I have the feeling that's why you're here now. Ben had something to do with, right?"

Dean gave a humorless laugh. "Yep. He sure did." Ben had everything to do with it.

Lisa smiled to herself. How Ben had managed to do that she would never know.

Lisa got up and refilled both her and Dean's glasses. Dean immediately took a hefty sip of the amber liquid.

"Sam's gone. I haven't seen Cas in ages, and he won't answer my prayers. I left the life for good. I'm done hunting. Almost no one gets out. But I did. I was alone, but at least no one could get hurt any more." Dean took another sip. "But then Ben found me Lisa. After the car accident, Ben remembered me. Don't ask how, because I have no idea how that's possible. But Ben found me in South Dakota. And he convinced me to come back to you."

Dean absentmindedly swirled the liquid in his glass. He was talking more to himself than to Lisa at this point.

"At first I thought it was a bad idea. But then I realized that that was what Sam wanted for me too." He paused. "I guess maybe you're right then. I was so busy making sure Sam was ok, that I forgot Sam wanted me to be ok too. That's why he wanted me to come back to you. And I needed Ben to make me do it."

Lisa waited for Dean to continue, but he stayed quiet.

"Well I'm glad he did." Lisa cupped Dean's cheek, turning him to face her again.

"How? The last time you talked to me you told me to leave. How can you be glad I'm here? After everything I did to you? To Ben?"

"Because then you were torn between hunting and us. And now- now I know that you're here for us. And I missed you Dean. I didn't know it until now, but I missed you so damn much." She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Dean's.

"I missed you Dean." She repeated quietly.

She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. This kiss was far more intimate than the one they had shared in the kitchen, and it caught Dean off guard. Lisa felt Dean stiffen under her touch, but neither of them moved to break the contact. Slowly, she felt him break down his walls. And suddenly he was kissing her deeply, taking her in. They moved together without breaking their kiss, Dean lying back against the couch as Lisa followed him, the need to be as close together as possible driving them.

"Oh come on - can you at least wait until I go to bed good God."

Lisa and Dean broke apart, startled and embarrassed. Ben stood in the doorway that led to the foyer, bags in hand and a smirk on his face.

"Sorry." They both said, embarrassed. They disentangled themselves from each other, and stood up.

"It's ok. Just… please don't while I'm home. My innocence doesn't need to be tainted quite yet."

Ben had indeed been a little shocked to find his mother and Dean entangled on the couch like teenage lovers. But he was also happy to find things having apparently gone well between them.

Dean coughed awkwardly. "Well, um, I think I'm going to call it a night. Kind of exhausted after that long drive."

"Thanks for dinner. And the drink." Dean said as he walked towards the front door.

"Dean where are you going?" Lisa asked incredulously.

"Um… to find a motel." He stated, as if it was obvious.

"Dean Winchester don't you dare. If you want to stick around, you're staying here." Lisa said. Her words were a question as much as statement.

Ben looked at Dean, hoping beyond hope that Dean would finally see that there was a place for him here, if only he would accept it.

Ben caught Dean's eye, silently pleading for him to stay. Ben swore he could see Dean sigh ever so slightly.

"Alright. I'll stay."

Ben smiled.

Lisa led Dean upstairs to the guest room. Despite their close conversations and their intimate moments from earlier in the evening, for some reason it still felt weird to Lisa to share a bed with Dean so soon after reuniting. It wasn't even the sexual implications of it that worried her; she just wasn't sure she was ready to open herself up to him completely. When he didn't question her directions, she figured Dean felt the same way. Or perhaps, she thought, maybe he was just letting her call the shots.

"Alright well, I guess I'll see you in the morning." Lisa said with a small smile, leaning against the doorway of the guest room, watching Dean set down his duffle on the floral bedspread.

"Yeah. I guess you will." Dean replied with a slight smile.

"Seriously guys come on. This is getting cheesy." Ben said, suddenly appearing in the doorway, carrying his own bag.

"Go to bed Ben." Lisa and Dean said together. Ben rolled his eyes.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Good night." Ben said, before closing his bedroom door behind him.

Lisa and Dean turned back to each other.

"Well, sleep well." Lisa said, walking out of the room.

"You too."

Lisa had just rounded the corner when she heard Dean call her name again. She turned around to find Dean behind her in the hallway.

"I just- I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?"

"For being you."

Lisa blushed, and a huge smiled lit up her face. She resisted the urge to rush forward and kiss him, knowing that she needed to take things slow if this was going to work. And she wanted to make this work.

"Good night Dean." She said softly, turning into her bedroom.

"Good night Lisa."

Dean smiled.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Dean had slept in the guest room for several nights after he had arrived. He wanted to wait for Lisa's invitation to anything beyond that. He had returned to her, but he stiil needed her to fully accept him back into her life.

After that first night, some kind of wall seemed to have come down inside Dean. He found himself relaxing into the easiness of life with Lisa and Ben, and enjoying the simplicity of the apple pie life. He helped Lisa cook, and helped Ben tune up his car. He proved himself to be handy around the house, fixing up this and that.

Sam had been right. Dean wanted this life more than he would have ever confessed.

Both times Dean had returned to Lisa had been at Sam's insistence, and both times had been after Sam's death. The first time Dean had attempted to build a life with Lisa and Ben, all those years ago, grief and whiskey had marred his days. Lisa had done all she could then to help him; she had been patient, kind, and supportive with the man she loved. It hadn't been perfect, but nothing ever was. They had been in it together, and it had worked for them. That is, until Sam mysteriously showed up on their door.

Dean loved Lisa and Ben and their life together, but Sammy always came first.

Lisa had expected to have to support Dean in much the same way this time, but it seemed that Dean had gotten everything out that he had needed to on that first night. He did still enjoy the occasional scotch or whiskey, but it was only ever one. He laughed easily, and took joy in simple things. And this time, Lisa knew Sam wouldn't be there to pull Dean away from the life he secretly loved. While she somewhat hated herself for thinking it, it was that thought more than anything that gave Lisa faith that this really could be a permanent thing.

Two weeks after Ben and Dean had returned home, Ben got his cast off, and he wasn't shy about letting his joy known.

"FREEDOM! Sweet lord it feels so good to make a fist." Ben said, flexing his newly decasted right hand. They were driving home from the doctor's office, Ben in the backseat and Lisa and Dean up front.

"Yeah just don't go punching people with that fist you hear? At least not until I teach you how to deck a guy properly." Dean said.

"Dean." Lisa scolded lightly, punching him jokingly on the shoulder.

"What?! It's useful knowledge! Every man should know how to land a good punch, right Ben?" Dean said, catching Ben's eye in the review mirror.

"Hell yeah!" Ben said. "But first I need to learn to throw again. I need to be at least halfway decent before the college season starts." He had even brought his glove with him to the doctor's office, and it now lay next to him on the backseat.

As soon as Dean parked in the driveway, Ben jumped out of the car.

"I'm going to go practice with Alex. I'll be home for dinner!" Ben called as he raced down the street, glove in hand.

"Don't overwork that arm!" Lisa called after him.

They watched him run off into the distance, Lisa wrapping an arm around Dean's waist in a half hug and Dean hanging an arm around her shoulders.

"I can't believe he's going to college in a week." Lisa said.

"I'm just happy he _is _going to college." Dean replied.

"C'mon. Let's get some lunch. Maybe sit outside?" Lisa asked.

"Sounds great." Dean said with a smile.

They made some sandwiches, settling themselves outside under the porch awning. They allowed themselves the pleasure of a cool beer on a warm summer afternoon, despite it not being even remotely close to 5.

Dean found himself staring at Lisa, who had folded herself into a deck chair, cool beer sweating in the summer heat. She was staring out across the yard, lost in thought. She could feel Dean's eyes on her though, his gaze unwavering.

Dean suddenly realized Lisa was calling his name.

"What? Oh sorry." Dean said, startled out of his reverie.

"What are you thinking about?" Lisa asked.

Dean paused for a beat, collecting his thoughts. "Just…just how it's kind of amazing that a year ago, I was living alone at a junk yard. And now I'm sitting on a porch, enjoying a beer with a beautiful woman."

"Oh please. That's a line if I ever heard one." Lisa replied.

"No I'm serious! It's just… life is weird you know. And if I'm the one saying that, it really must be true."

"I don't disagree with you there." Lisa said, taking a sip of her beer.

A comfortable silence falls between.

"Ben really is a great kid you know. He's gonna be great in college." Dean said.

Lisa smiled. "Yeah. I know."

"You did a hell of a job with him. Especially by yourself."

A sudden thought crossed Lisa's mind, and she debated voicing it. But no, now was not the time. _Later._ She thought to herself.

Lisa leaned over the table, surprising Dean with her sudden kiss.

"What was that for?" Dean asked.

"For being you." Lisa said, echoing his own words to her from that first night. She kissed him again, deeper and longer this time.

Quickly realizing where this was heading, the two moved inside, Lisa pulling Dean behind her up the stairs and to her room.

An hour later, the two of them lay under the covers, comfortable and content. Lisa snuggled close to Dean, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder, her hand resting on his bare chest just below his anti possession tattoo. Dean had an arm around her, holding her close to him, simply enjoying the feel of her next to him.

They were happy.

Dean never slept in the guest room again.

* * *

**_AN_**_: I've just noticed that my characters are always drinking something in a scene. But if you notice, that's often how it is in the show as well. Sorry. I guess I need them to be doing something besides talking. I'll be sure to keep that in mind for my next story though, and try to keep that to a minimum._

_One more chapter to go. I wanted to include it here, but then this chapter would have been even later._


	7. Hugs

"MOM! HAVE YOU SEEN MY CLEATS?!"

"Under your bed!" Lisa called back, standing at the foot of the stairs.

She waited, her fingers drumming against the stair railing.

"FOUND 'EM!" Ben called from upstairs.

Lisa smiled, shaking her head. Sometimes she worried her son would lose his head if it wasn't attached to his neck.

Ben was packing for college, and it wasn't a quite matter. He had been running around the house all day, grabbing whatever of his he could find. Staring down at the piles of stuff now strewn around his room, Ben thought it was amazing how much stuff a person could have. He hoped he would be able to pack it all, much less fit it all in a tiny dorm room.

Lisa had been helping Ben collect his things over the past few days, bringing him clean laundry and small pieces of advice. That morning, though, Ben had asserted his independence and had demanded she leave him alone to pack. Ben rarely acted like the typical American teenager, but Lisa figured it was his attempt to actual act his age for once before going to live with a bunch of other 18 year olds.

Dean stayed out of all it, the whole scenario of Ben going to college painfully reminiscent of when Sam had left him and their Dad for Stanford. Even all these years (and deaths and resurrections and hugs and hopes), the memory of it still pained him.

Instead, Dean was spending the afternoon under the shade of the majestic oak tree in the front yard, the branches falling over the driveway to create a natural umbrella against the hot summer sun. Dean was working on the Mustang again, having towed it to Illinois from South Dakota earlier in the week. It was quickly becoming his favorite car, second only to Baby, and he wasn't about to let it sit for the winter in South Dakota.

Dean had taken a quick trip back to Singer Salvage to tie up some loose ends. He had grabbed the rest of his clothes, and even a few hunting supplies. Dean couldn't deny his hunting instincts, despite leaving the life. Singer Salvage hadn't really proved to be much of a moneymaking business for Dean, the hunter never having learned proper business etiquette. At any rate, it proved to be a blessing in disguise, allowing Dean to easily close the junkyard while he spent the foreseeable future in Illinois with Lisa.

Dean wiped a hand over his sweating brow, deciding a cool drink was in order.

He walked into the house and grabbed himself a glass of water in the kitchen, staring out the window that hung over the sink.

Lisa had been bustling around the house doing some last minute laundry for Ben. She walked into the kitchen, laundry basket in hand. She abruptly stopped in her tracks, the sight of Dean in the kitchen taking her slightly by surprise. His back was facing her, and he didn't notice her entrance.

Lisa was suddenly struck by the simple fact that there was a man standing in her kitchen. A man, no less, whom she loved with all her heart. Dean still found it hard to believe that Lisa actually loved him, citing his flaws and mistakes every time she insisted on her feelings for him. She loved him because of his flaws, not despite them, and she was quick to remind him of that on a regular basis.

Lisa was also careful to let Dean say I love you first, knowing that his acknowledgment of that feeling needed to come from him first if this was going to work. Lisa knew it had taken a lot of effort on Dean's part (and a lot of nudging from Ben) for Dean to return to her. And she knew he wouldn't have done it if he didn't love her too. That was the thought that let Lisa put faith in their relationship and kept her patiently waiting for Dean.

All these thoughts quickly ran through Lisa's mind. Taking a deep breath, Lisa seemed to have made her mind up about something as a determined look appeared on her face. She placed the laundry basket on the floor and quietly walked towards Dean. She wound her arms around his torso in a sort of backwards hug, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Hey" She said quietly.

"Hey yourself." Dean replied, placing his arms over Lisa's.

Dean smelled of sunshine and motor oil, with a hint of Old Spice mixing in. Lisa breathed in his scent, letting it fill her up with memories, both new and recently renewed.

"Hey Dean?" Lisa asked, breaking the quiet.

"Mmm?"

"Do you remember, all those years ago, when you saved Ben from that monster that was kidnapping kids?"

"The changling. Yeah I remember."

"Do you remember what you asked me afterwards?"

Dean turned around to face Lisa, suddenly realizing where this conversation was heading.

"I asked you if you were sure that Ben wasn't mine. Lisa, what are you trying to tell me right now?" Dean's eyes burned with his need to finally know the truth.

Lisa seemed to have lost her voice, suddenly unable to tell Dean what she wanted him to know. Lisa locked eyes with Dean, her expression pleading.

"Lisa…" Dean gulped, "Lisa, are you telling me that Ben really is mine? Are you- Are you telling me that Ben is my son?"

Lisa nodded. "Yes Dean. Ben is your son. He's our son."

Dean felt the truth of it hit him hard, taking a few steps back from Lisa before running into the kitchen counter. He ran a hand over his face, a nervous habit that Lisa knew all too well.

"Why… Why did you lie to me when I asked you before? Why Lisa?" Dean was staring as Lisa, his face begging for an answer.

Lisa took a deep, shaky breath.

"I lied back then Dean, because I knew it would only make your life more difficult. You needed to be hunting, with Sam. I knew if I told you that you had a son, you would want to stay. But that would have torn you apart Dean. It would have. So, I lied."

Dean was staring at her, trying to make sense of Lisa's logic.

"I'm sorry Dean. I'm so sorry." Lisa said quietly.

The two of them are quiet, thinking. The silence is broken only by the occasional bump or knock from upstairs from Ben's frenzied packing.

Dean's shock was quickly wearing away, replaced now with a strange relief. He had always thought of Ben as his own, despite knowing the he wasn't Ben's biological father. But now, now Dean knew the truth. And it made him happier than he ever thought it could.

Lisa was waiting in trepidation for Dean's reaction, the man standing across from her having remained silent.

Dean suddenly took a deep breath.

"So…So Ben is my son. We have a son." Dean said breathlessly, his words both a question and a statement.

"Yes Dean. We have a son." Lisa reaffirmed.

Dean suddenly grabbed Lisa in a bone crushing hug, a new found happiness emanating from him. It was as if Lisa had just told him she was pregnant, except that she was 18 years late in letting him know.

Still holding Lisa tight to him, Dean mutters a question into Lisa's ear: "Does Ben know?"

"He suspects. But no, he doesn't know."

As if right on cue, Ben walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Mom do you know what time I'm supposed to check into housing tomorrow? I can't find my orientation informa…" Ben stopped short, startled at finding his mother and Dean in what was obviously an intimate moment.

"What's going on?" Ben asked hesitantly.

Dean broke away from Lisa, taking a few swift strides before engulfing Ben in hug.

"Unmpfh. Geesh Dean what's going on? You're scaring me." Ben said through Dean's tight hold.

Dean released Ben, a huge smile on his face. "No Ben. It's good. It's really good." Dean said. Dean exchanged a glance with Lisa, as if asking for permission. She shrugged, a smile on her face. _Go head, _her expression said.

"So, um, Ben. I really don't know how else to say this. I've, uh, never really been much for tact."

Ben's eyes darted from Dean to his mother and back to Dean again, a puzzled expression on his face. Unconsciously, he was bracing himself for bad news.

"Ben…I'm your dad."

"Ex-Excuse me?" Ben was flabbergasted.

Ben looked to his mother, seeking confirmation.

"It's true Ben. I know you've wondered it for so long, but now you know for sure."

"Holy shit." Ben said under his breath.

"Yeah, you could say that again." Dean said, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Holy shit!" Ben repeats, louder this time. A huge smile crept up on Ben's face. Dean and Lisa laugh.

Ben grabs Dean in a brief hug before pulling back suddenly.

"I don't have call you Dad now or anything do I?" Ben asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Dean barked out a laugh, Lisa grinning behind him. "Please don't. It makes me feel old."

Ben laughed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The next day, Dean and Lisa dropped Ben off at college. Dean and Ben drive the three hours together, Lisa following in her own car. Ben had been imaging this day for a few years, his Mom waving enthusiastically as she drove off. He had never imagined having both his mother and father there. It was strangely wonderful.

Dean and Lisa were starting to settle into their life together. Lisa no longer worked such long shifts, opting instead to spend her evenings with Dean, the two of them simply talking or taking long walks together. Dean had found a job as a mechanic to help support them, as well as to give himself something to do during the day. It was a simple life, and afforded Lisa and Dean the time and energy to build a foundation again. It was difficult, especially considering the supernatural aspect of some of their discussions, but they did it together. And it worked.

One Friday night in early November found Dean at home alone. Lisa was enjoying an evening out with her girlfriends at Dean's insistence; she had been spending more time with Dean than anyone else, and Dean had urged her to get reacquainted with old friends. Secretly, he also didn't mind being home alone for a change.

Dean had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the TV, the room dark save for the screen illuminating his face. He was lightly snoring, a half empty beer held loosely in one hand.

Dean's slumber was interrupted by the peculiar feeling of someone staring at him. His eyes shoot open, hunter's instincts and reactions kicking into gear. There, standing before him, was a very familiar man.

"Hello Dean."

"Jesus Christ Cas!" Dean exclaimed, spilling his beer on his jeans in surprise and jumping up as the wetness hit him.

"I didn't mean to startle you Dean. It was comforting to watch you slumber so peacefully." Cas said calmly.

"Yeah well… it's creepy." Dean said, attempting to wipe some beer off his jeans. Dean quickly gave up, the realization that Cas was indeed standing in front of him suddenly hitting him hard. In a few quick steps, he had the angel in a bone crushing hug. Dean released him quickly, leaving a hand clasped on the angel's shoulder.

"Cas where the hell have you been man? I haven't seen you in years! I prayed to you! I prayed every damn day! Why didn't you answer me? Why didn't you answer my prayers?!" Dean suddenly felt like Lisa probably had on the night Dean had come back to her: confused, frustrated, and angry.

Castiel sighed, expressing a rarely seen human emotion from the angel.

"I was… busy Dean. I needed to aid my brothers and sisters in reorganizing after Ezekiel's death. They were panicking and potentially very dangerous. If things got out of hand, or if the wrong angel attempted to lead them, things could have been much worse than what Ezekiel had planned. It took longer than I expected to bring some semblance of peace and purpose to them all."

"So what, you're the new leader of angels now?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"In a way, yes. They do not answer to my command, but simple ask for my guidance on certain affairs. You could say I am their…advisor. But I do not lead them. I am not the angel meant to bear that responsibility." Castiel replied patiently.

"Yeah, you could say that again." Dean said, scoffing. They both knew that the last time Cas had attempted to become the leader of heaven, the Leviathans had escaped from Purgatory.

Cas suddenly looked a thousand years old, sadness and self-disappointment weighing him down.

"I'm sorry I did not answer your prayers Dean. I heard them, but I knew I could bring you no comfort. So I stayed away."

"Well you ignoring me didn't exactly help either. I just needed someone to talk to Cas. I needed…I needed my family." Dean admitted.

"I know that. So I gave you a family again." Cas said.

"You what?" Dean asked, puzzled.

"Please don't be angry Dean. I orchestrated your reunion with Ben and Lisa. You would never go back to them on your own, not even on Sam's instructions. So I gave Ben back his memories of you while he lay unconscious in the hospital after his accident. When you returned to Lisa, I gave her her memories back as well, contingent upon the two of you kissing. You kissing her would signal your desire for this life."

"Wait so, you did this? All of this?"

"I allowed for it to happen. You made the choices Dean."

Dean was quiet, processing Cas' words. The sound of a football game on TV in the background stood out in stark contrast to the seriousness of their conversation. Cas noticed it, and with a wave of his hand he shut off the TV, plunging them into darkness.

The opening of the front door pulled Dean out of his reverie.

"Would you like me to leave?" Cas asked quickly.

Before Dean can answer, Lisa walked into the living room, flipping on the lights.

"I hope you weren't too lon - Dean who's this?" Lisa asked, stopping mid step as she notices Castiel.

"Oh um. Lisa, this…this is Castiel. Cas." Lisa eyes the angel with deep curiosity. "You remember me talking about him, right?" Dean said nervously.

In a few light steps, Cas closes the space between Lisa and himself. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Cas says, offering a hand.

Lisa tentatively takes Cas' hand, shaking it. _I'm shaking an angel's hand. I'M SHAKING THE HAND OF AN ANGEL,_ she screamed internally.

"It's…it's nice to meet you too. Dean's told me a lot about you." Lisa says nervously.

"Dean has told me nothing about you. But I believe that is because he loves you. And Dean does not like to talk about love." Cas replies.

Lisa can't hold back a laugh.

"You know, I think that's probably true." Lisa said, giving Dean a quick wink. Dean was nervously watching their interaction, hands in his pockets.

"I believe I will leave you two alone. I have many matters to attend to." Cas says.

"Wait Cas! You'll stop in from time to time though, right?" Dean asks.

"If you would like me to, yes, I will." Cas says with a smile.

"Yeah. You know, that would be great. You're my family too Cas." Dean says sheepishly.

Lisa could have sworn she saw the angel blush.

"I will see you both soon." Cas says with a slight nod of his head to each of them. A quiet flutter of wings, and Cas was gone.

"So, that was Cas." Lisa said, walking over to Dean. She shrugged out of her jacket, and dropped it on the couch.

"That was Cas." Dean repeated back.

"He seems…interesting."

"That's one way to put it." Dean said affectionately.

"What happened to your pants Dean?" Lisa asks, noticing his beer soaked jeans.

Dean glances down, suddenly embarrassed. "Oh, uh. Cas kind of scared me when he showed up. Made me spill my beer. He has a tendency to appear out of thin air, what with being an angel and all."

Lisa laughed quietly, leaning up to kiss Dean. Pulling back slightly, Lisa whispers against his lips, "Let's say we get you out of those wet jeans."

"That," Dean wraps his arms around Lisa, ",sounds like an excellent idea." Dean replies with a cheeky grin, before capturing Lisa's lips with his own.

That night, for the first time in years, Dean tells someone he loves them.

And, for the first time in a long time, Dean hears someone repeat it back to him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A few weeks later finds the small family celebrating Thanksgiving.

Ben was home from college for the holidays, and was helping Dean carve the turkey. Ben it seemed, knew more about than Dean did. The last time Dean had been with the Braeden's they had gone to a friend's house. So this was Dean's first time cooking Thanksgiving dinner from scratch, and he was enjoying the art of turkey cooking immensely. It was a big change from his usual Thanksgiving of a bucket of KFC in a motel room with a couple beers and bad TV.

Dean walked to the living room to grab himself a whiskey from the liquor cabinet Lisa kept there. From where he was standing, Dean could hear Ben in the kitchen enthusiastically telling Lisa about his friends and classes at college. Dean smiled to himself.

He took a sip of whiskey, suddenly reminded of Sam. Dean still missed Sam, the pain of losing his brother an ache he would carry forever. But with Lisa and Ben in his life again, the hole that had resided in Dean's life after Sam's death seemed much smaller. It was something that never would never have happened without Cas' help.

"Thanks Cas." Dean muttered, glancing skyward.

A small, warm breeze swept through the room, gently nudging Dean.

If Dean didn't know any better, he would have dismissed it as a fluke. But he knew, somehow, that it was Cas.

_You are very welcome my dear friend, _the breeze seemed to say.

Dean huffed out a small laugh, and headed back into the kitchen with whiskey in hand.

The three of them sat around the round kitchen table, sharing stories and laughs.

Lisa cleared the plates, and brought out dessert.

"This looks amazing Lisa." Dean said enthusiastically.

Lisa smiled down at him. "What does?" indicating the selection of pies on the table.

"Everything." Dean said with a smile. She kissed him quickly, handing him a slice of pie.

Dean took a hefty bite of apple pie.

Dean had finally gotten his apple pie life, and eaten it too.

* * *

_**A/N**__: I know I know, kind of a cheesy ending. But I just had to :P I hope you enjoyed reading! Please review and let me know your thoughts! :)_

_I already have another story outlined, centered around Sam at Stanford and needing to call Dean for the first time in two years when he is gravely injured on an unexpected solo hunt. It won't be posted for a while yet though, as my life in the next month is going to be a bit crazy. But I'll be back! _


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